I Want A Refund On My Phantom, Please
by haleybob
Summary: It's a Band Championship held in Paris, France. Once-in-a-lifetime oppertunity for Emma&Max. Their greatest wish granted, they're thrilled to be close to the place where Erik once lived. What they don't know is how close they will find themselves to be.EC
1. Chapter 1

**Haleybob here! I think it's been long enough since I've worked on anything else but WL or SN. I've decided to write another story, one that I have been thinking on for the longest time but never once wanted to start until my others were completed. To those who've read SN, I'm not finished, but I won't be quiting the writing whatsoever. The story will go on. Anyhoodles, I've been needing to work on something else. So behold! My phan phiction! **

**I wanted desperately to make something based true to the original novel. It will be based only off so, unless I decide to turn to Susan Kay's Phantom for minor details that aren't stated in the original. The characters are mine, based of myself and a friend. Our names and any other names you'll find non-Phantom have been changed to keep secrecy. Personalities vary, but I assure you, there won't be too much fantasy or phangirling going on. I wanted something fun BUT realistic. So, without further ado...I Want A Refund On My Phantom, Please.**

**DISCLAIMER: Phantom is not mine, Phantom of the Opera is not mine, but original characters are. **

**Part One:**

The crackly, static filled voice made itself known over the plane's intercom.

"_Ladies and gentleman, this is your Captain speaking." _

_-_kkkt-

_"Just letting you know that we will be arriving at our destination in a few hours." _

_-_kkkt-

_"Please fasten your seat belts as we go through some turbulence." _

_-_kkkt-

_ "your seat belt light will tell you when it is clear to remove them."_

_-_kkkt-

_"Have a great day and thank you for flying European Trip Airlines."_

_ -_kkkt-

Groaning I leaned back in my seat, searching lazily for the recline button on the side panel.

"Oh man," I sighed, "Just a few more hours and we'll be in…in…"

My friend sitting next to me, Max, cut in.

"Hell." She said darkly, not looking up from her book.

Phantom by Susan Kay, is our favorite besides the one by Gaston Leroux. You could never beat the original as we always said.

I looked at her, raising an eyebrow. Max never swears though hell technically isn't a curse word….If you use it as a place anyways.

"Okay then," I said, changing tactics, "we'll arrive in Hell. I thought our teacher got the wrong tickets!"

I grinned impishly at her, expecting her to laugh. She didn't and instead she rewarded me with a scowl before flipping the page in her book rather savagely. She had had to get up early this morning to get on the plane, and she wasn't a morning person. Either way, I loved to push her over the edge. Call me suicidal. I leaned close to her, pursing out my pale lips in a fish-like fashion.

"Hey Ms. Grumpy Gills," I cooed right in her ear, using Dory's accent from Finding Nemo. Slowly Max looked at me and gave me a you're-going-to-get-it-later look.

"Emma, I'm not in the mood." She hissed. See? Not a morning person.

Respecting that, I leaned away, cowering for my life.

"You so mean!" I wailed, making my voice go high pitched like a small girl's. "You so mean, Max-san!"

_Smack._ I never saw the book leave her hands as it came down mercilessly upon my already beaten head.

"I said never call me that!" she fumed as I rubbed my head. "We are not in Japan and I don't like anime!"

I only whimpered in response, thinking how many times we've gone over it. And how many times I forgotten it as well. The thought still made me smile.

"It's not just in anime, Max!" I cried, taking up the usual defense when this subject came up. "It's a term of respect in Japan!"

She raised the book high and I pressed myself up against the wall in hope to avoid her wrath.

"Emma!" she said warningly, "I said no! Only call me Max while we are anywhere else. We're not in Japan and you can't call me that unless we are there!"

I wanted to use my usual annoying response on how we should go to Japan before the red, angry face of our Band instructor made itself known over our seat.

"Jammes! Sorelli!" Mr. Perini bellowed his eyes bloodshot and bugging. "_Shut up_!"

We both jumped and nodded meekly, muttering a quick, "Sorry, Mr. Perini…." before he got up out of his seat to yell at the other high school students in the back. A vein in his temple, I noted, was ticking in fierce rhythm to his high blood pressure. Of course, I couldn't blame him. But yes, Max Jammes and Emma Sorelli –me– were on a plane to Paris for an once-in-a-lifetime competition with the rest of our school's band, percussion and all. Our instruments were safely being held with the luggage under the plane but somehow our whole band was able to achieve to totally make Mr. Perini and the rest of the non-band passengers go mad with the noise made with no instrumentation whatsoever. Max and I were lucky enough to get seats closer to the exits, that way, if Mr. Perini _did_ go mad, we'd be able to get out first. Clever, _non_?

Oh, don't get me wrong, it's not that our band is bad.

In playing.

When we want to.

This is never.

We just liked to torture the poor man out of his mind with our still lingering middle school maturity. Even the Seniors enjoyed being stupid now and then. Max sighed and shook her head, muttered under her breath, "Stupid people." I could only full-heartedly agree with her.

"Why is our band the only stupid one?" I complained, glancing to the back of the airplane.

Mr. Perini was yelling up a storm, his face beat red and turning purple. Not the most flattering shade for a mid-forty-year-old man who's balder than the nation's national bird.

"We are one of the best bands in the country, yet we only play well when we're in competitions!" I said sadly.

Max nodded agreeably.

"Yeah," she said gravely, "and the rest of the time is spent making Mr. Perini wishing he was on his death bed."

"That poor man," I murmured. "Well, no time to spend wallowing in misery!" I dug underneath my seat for my blue-crochet knapsack to get my MP3. "Time for some music!" I crowed holding it close.

Max rolled her eyes.

"How are you going to listen to it over the plane's jets?" she asked, "You'd have to turn it up to 29 and blow out your eardrums."

I stared at her in horror and looked at my music player and rose up a fist in anguish.

"Curse you infernal transportation villain!"

My friend patted me on the shoulder in sympathy as I muttered under my breath. Now we were really going to Hell. I told that to Max and she smirked and glanced back at our laughing, jeering, idiotic classmates.

"We'll be lucky if Mr. Perini's heart doesn't give out." She noted. "The percussion girl's giving him some lip again."

I groaned and looked over my seat. Sure enough, there was the black-haired, rather emo looking girl mouthing off to the teacher.

"Good grief," I sighed, "we're never going to get to Paris alive are we, Max?"

She shook her head and went back to her book, reading a passage she let out an embarrassed laugh. I leaned over her shoulder and cackled as well. We loved this part in Phantom when the khanum was threatening to make Erik a eunuch and he asked if a small jar….well if you read it you'll know what I'm talking about.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Thankfully the plane ride went more smoothly once we saw Mr. Perini haul the girl off to the front where our principle, Mr. Beech, was sitting calm as you please. Well, I think he was awake but I heard that he can sleep with his eyes open. Personally I felt sorry for the girl. Our principle was known to burst into a speech about any old thing and think it's encouraging. Meanwhile, Max had finished the book in record time and was currently dabbing at her eyes with her t-shirt as a few tears tried to make a run for it down her face. Yes, even the mighty Max could be swayed by it. You should see us after reading the original. I took up the book as it was my turn and curled up in the corner of my seat to read. Unfortunately, this is where the so-called turbulence started to hit, rocking the plane enough to where our precious book slipped from my grasp.

"No!" I cried despairingly, diving for it as it nestled itself underneath the seat in front of me.

Unfortunately for me, I grabbed a foot and had to make a hasty, mumbled an apology to our other director Mr. Party. Oh, don't be fooled by his last name, he isn't interested in parties; he is only vivacious and very into his other work. This is being the toughest clarinet/saxophone teacher I have ever met. I was amazed that our fingers didn't bleed after each lesson! He was really the only teacher our Band remotely listened to. It was probably because of him that we got practicing in and got as good as we are.

"Be more careful with your…ah…possessions, Miss Sorelli." Mr. Party frowned, his light brown hair brushing into his dark, dark blue eyes.

I swear, from far away his eyes looked all black. It was maddening. Like he'd suddenly grow fangs and bite you, maddening. He's a bit old, but he doesn't have any wrinkles yet. Had he grown out and dyed his hair and changed his wardrobe a bit, he could look like an older rock star. Scary, _non_?

"S-sorry," I mumbled, trying in vain to sink into my chair.

I don't deal with adults well, they make me nervous. Especially Mr. Party, he was awesome but I always felt silly when talking to him. Another scowl and my instructor turned to face the front again; I let out a sigh of relief. Max looked at me.

"You know, you get into a lot of trouble with your randomness. Be careful okay?"

I sighed and nodded. Must I always be told to be careful?

"Don't worry," I assured her. "It's not like Erik is going to pop out and Punjab me."

Finally, Max laughed.

"You'd like that, though!" she said teasingly.

I laughed too, pleased with my success. Max was a lot more cheery when I got her to laugh. And yes, weirdly enough, I wouldn't mind getting Punjabbed. But only by Erik of course.

How wrong I would find myself to be in only a few short hours.

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**Reviews would be nice! It's been a long time since I wrote in first person. Second chapter will be updated today as well...if my folks don't drag me off, of course.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for reading, if you have. I'd like to know if you have. You know? Lonely? I don't know... Anyways, here's the second chapter!**

**DISCLAIMER: Phantom of the Opera is not mine. All original characters are. Slightly.**

* * *

**Part Two:**

"Everyone grab their bags and meet at the bus!" Mr. Perini barked. "No waiting around! We will buy food later! Meet at the bus!"

With our instructor barking orders, all of the high school students, Max, and I yawned widely while being jostled down the small escalator from our flying prison hold. With much luck, we had all managed to catch some sleep during a silent movie (surprisingly) with only a few stragglers managing to keep their eyes open.

I had watched the movie with hazed eyes, Max sleeping rather slumped in her seat beside me. I was so tired I didn't even remember what the movie was about! Tousle-haired and extremely exhausted I managed to send Max an excited stare.

"We're in Paris!" I whispered.

She, too, managed a wide smile that took form of a yawn.

"Yeah…Paris!" she murmured, staring around blearily.

Everyone was soon on their way picking out their luggage from the huge pile in the middle of us and piling into the buses that arrived shortly as we got out of the airport.

Loaded up on the bus I could only stare with wide-eyed wonder at the lit streets before me. Even at this late hour people were walking about and I thought I heard someone yelling, in French of course, outside. Settled in some sort of seat, I pressed my forehead to the cool glass and gave a satisfied sigh. Our competition would be tomorrow night, and for another three days, we'd be spending all our time wandering the breath-taking streets of Paris itself.

Lights suddenly turned back on the bus and I quickly shielded my delicate eyes from the harsh glare. Max groaned and started to get up, gathering her bags sullenly into her arms. I was quick to copy her and wondered if it was my exhaustion that had prevented me from hearing Mr. Perini's orders.

I barely remember the hotel, a teacher helper giving me, Max, and some other girl we were paired up with a room key, and even the fact I had walked up a few flights of stairs to reach our room! But I did remember that the girl took the longest shower and that Megan fell asleep instantly on one of the double beds.

Barely conscious, I dragged myself to the window and admired the view, pleased that we could actually see the Eiffel Tower from our large window. Or at least, the tip anyways. The tip that might be the Eiffel Tower…

"You're turn," the other girl muttered as she walked out of the bathroom, a towel secured around her wet hair, pajamas already on.

I was able to recollect that she was one of the few girl trumpets. Quite good actually.

"Thanks," I muttered, seizing my own sleepwear before entering the loveliest bathroom I've seen in a hotel for the longest time.

It had a shower/bathtub with hot running water and the counter seemed to be made of a light pink stone. The shampoo was a mixture of delicious scents…I would have to steal this later before we left France. Before I became intoxicated with the hot water and bubbles, I quickly rinsed and hopped out, glaring at my painfully pale complexion, almost translucent white hair, and my purplish pink eyes as I pulled on my nightgown.

Yep, hard for some people to conceive, but I am an albino. Now, don't go weird on me, we don't all look like I do. I have type OCA1a, which stands for Oculocutaneous albinism type 1 A. I can't develop pigment at all which gives people the color of their skin and hair, ectetera so I'm chalk white and my hair would fit perfectly on a 90 year old woman instead of a fifteen year old girl. I guess my eyes bug people the most…normally albino humans have normal eyes and develop normal hair and all, but there are few of us, like me who aren't as lucky.

I wish it weren't so, or at least I wished I had a bit more pigment to make my eyes blue at least. I loved blue eyes and was often jealous of my older sister who luckily had no albinism whatsoever. I bet her children would, though. Stupid recessive gene.

Painfully I took out my contacts, the sleep with them on in both the plane and bus made them gum to my very eyeball. Ah, my eyes. How much trouble they caused for my poor parents. We albino people usually aren't sickly or unhealthy when we're born dispite our genetic disease, but if anything is wrong with us physically, it was our eyes. My own eyes had undergone several surgeries with little to better success to improve my poor vision.

When I had been a tiny child, I was almost legally blind. My parents, not wishing for my sight to dissapear, signed up for anything to get me my vision. To their delight and mine, it worked out in the end even though my eyes still were not perfect and I had a choice of glasses or contacts. Contacts are your best friends, _mon ami_.

Well enough of this description of me. Let's move on to something more interesting, and a little bit more interesting than the next morning at breakfast when a trombone inhaled half a banana and almost had to go to a French hospital the lucky duck. Competition, again, would be that night at eight, leaving us high schoolers free for awhile after our tour to explore the wonders. As always, Max would be with me the whole time along with our packs filled with things to do in case the French community somehow bored us. Or banned us from the wine shop, I couldn't tell which.

"The Opera House is a must," she muttered, circling our map with red pen, clucking her tongue. "I am not going to be in Paris without seeing that building."

She and I rested near a perfume shop, catching our breath while trying to figure out what time the rest of the band would have to get together again. I could've sworn the time schedule was in my pocket, but alas and to our hidious dispair, it certainly wasn't. Only my sunglasses which I hated to wear.

"We can go there and if anything, ask for help," she continued as I stared at all the people around us in fasination. "I can't believe I didn't grab the schedule myself…no matter. Emma? Stay away from the locals, they aren't your friends."

I froze in the act of sidling up to a group of distinguished old men who spoke rapidly to one another in Frech, oblivious of my existance, and sulked back to Max.

"I will talk French to you if you really need to hear it," she said dryly, leading me away down the crowded streets once again. "But I can't go losing you. You're parents paid me too much."

I scowled as she snickered, enjoying her joke but glanced skyward towards the dome-like structure of the Paris Opera. My jaw dropped in awe of the architecture of it all and had a feeling I would fall backwards to soak its detail in if Max didn't have a death grip on my upper arm.

"Erik was in here," I whispered to her as we walked in the main lobby.

She smiled but shushed me, paying for our tickets for the tours. My mind was elsewhere as she shoved my ticket into my hands as I turned my neck nearly 360 degrees around to view it all. It was better than any of the Wikipedia pictures online. High ceilings, painted with gold filigree statues. Tiled floors with chandeliers, great big candle holders that dominated the halls, rich carpentry and tapestries…

Beauty all around me all shoved and crammed into one, grand, large building. Several other tourists snapped photos and talked rapidly in whatever language they were known to, one of which looked amazingly like a peacock.

The neck long and proud with feathery hair, beaky but delicate nose, and cold blue eyes it was odd characteristics to find on the man I stared at. Max nudged me on as his eyes flicked to meet mine.

I flushed and then just realized that the man was actually our tour guide and had been speaking while I stared about me slack jawed. Apparently he had asked me a question I didn't hear and I just stared at him like a mute.

"Eh?" I said intelligently, my mouth still hanging open.

"Your 'air," he said in a slightly annoyed, French accented voice. "Did you dye it?"

I must've taken too long to answer for he sighed impatiently and hurried our group along. Max helpfully put in her two cents.

"Nice going," she grumbled, "made yourself look like an idiot you know. If you were listening, we're going to see the stage!"

"What about the skeleton?" I asked, absentmindedly still trying to permanently absorb things into my mind's eye.

Or something along those lines. As much as I loved the building itself and that excellent stage, what I wanted the most was to see if the skeleton was truly there. The skeleton Gaston claimed to be that of the Opera Ghost.

"Excuse me…" I attempted to talk to our bird-for-a-tour-guide. I glanced at his name tag for help. "Sean. Um, you know everything about this place right?"

He stared at me looking annoyed that I interrupted him, again but I could almost see his bird frame puff out. The other tourists looked at me quizzically, waiting for Sean to give them more information about the tapestry we stood in front of.

"I wouldn't say I know everyzing," he drawled finally, "but I am sure I could anzer your question."

Max looked horrified, waved her arms frantically behind him, knowing what I would ask. Ah, poor Max. We all needed one stupid tourist to ask a dumb question, right? And I would be more than happy to fulfill that role. So I asked our good French buddy:

"Is it true this place has the skeleton of the Opera Ghost?"

* * *

**We'll be picking up the pace pretty fast I imagine. Thank you anyone for reading, I'd like to hear your opinions!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to those who've added this story to a watch, or favorite, or whatever! It makes me so happy! And thanks to all the places where I got info to make this seem more realistic. Any tips or tidbits of France would be awesome.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Phantom, but niether do you. I'm happy!**

* * *

**Part Three:**

At first there was silence among us all as everyone stared between me and Sean like frightened birds. I stood there, grinning as casually as I could, hoping he wouldn't think I was kidding. I knew I wasn't, I really wanted to know. Finally a smirk started to smear itself across Sean's peacock face and my own fell. This would not be a happy answer. For me, anyways.

"The 'Opera Ghost'?" he repeated mockingly, looking about the other tourists with a slight grin. "Mademoiselle, this is a historical site. Not a story ground."

Almost on cue the others started to laugh to themselves and behind their hands, a few of the more polite ones changing their chuckles into coughs. I flushed faintly and muttered a quick apology, sulking back to Max's side. I had a hard time refusing the urge to challenge the historical evidence of Erik against this peacock man. He could be hiding something about it. I told myself this as we continued on, Max listening enraptured with the history of our favorite place. She would be remembering it for me to tell me later in simpler English.

"He has a thing against albinos," I whispered to her sulkily. "That's why he wouldn't spill the beans."

To my disappointment, Max shushed me gently again and pulled me along one of the more dark hallways. She and I are true phans, but at the moment Max was all but interested in the building at hand, not the things left unseen and told of. I stared around me in wonder. Perhaps, if they were truly hiding the skeleton, it would be in one of the rooms we didn't enter. Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. And no one was in my brain to tell me the stupidity of that thought either, which is probably why I went through with it with little consideration of the consequences. Letting go of Max's jacket, I slipped to the back of the tour group behind one of the larger ones with a runny nose and a bad case of dandruff. Slowly Sean led them on while I hide behind a larger statue, congratulating myself on the small success.

"What're you doing?" Max's voice hissed behind me.

I nearly squawked but her hand clapped over my mouth as she pulled me into a darker corner as another tour group came around the bend. Automatically I tried to explain myself through her hand with little success. She let me go and glared, looking nervously at the tour as it passed without a single glance our way.

"I want to find the skeleton!" I admitted. "It's here, I know it is! They're just hiding it…"

She sighed and tried to pull me back to the lit hallways but I wouldn't give up. I must admit, you might be wondering why I was acting like such a little kid. I took a test once on Facebook that recorded your real age. I got seven years old. Not that I'm making excuses of course, I just don't care how I act. Not a good thing when your best friend has taken it up on themselves to become the parent as soon as my biological ones were gone.

With cunning skill I slipped just out of Max's reach and scuttled down the halls, trying all the doors with burning curiosity. Hey, if you got to go to Paris and got to go inside the best place in the world, wouldn't you want to see every single room they have to offer?

"I'm going to kill you!" Max hissed through clenched teeth, nearly seizing my backpack strap.

I restrained a giggle and threw open another door, this time accidentally catching my leg on the pole lying in the doorway. Of course I fell heavily and was just thinking about how my stomach would hold in my lunch when a heavier weight plopped on top. I squawked with pain as Max gave me a well deserved noggin punch before standing up, making sure to step on me as she closed the door of the room quickly.

"Emma, you're going to be the death of me," she moaned as she listened intently to the door in case someone caught us.

She's always been terrified at getting in trouble and avoided any situation that could get her in any type of trouble like the plague. But I wasn't paying attention to what she spoke. I found myself too busy staring at something and it wasn't my stupid sunglasses that fell out of my pocket again.

"Emma! Did you hear me?" she grumbled.

I just kept staring while raising a helpful finger, pointing to the thing I thought would be impossible to just run up on. A skeleton standing in a glass case with its characteristically eternal smile, looking ominously pleased we found it.

"Holy crap, we actually found it?" She muttered faintly, coming up to the case itself.

I mouthed like a fish out of water, not expecting to see a real skeleton. Sure, I'd love to find one, but this would've been like horror movie kind of matter. Still there we were, touching the glass and peering at the yellowed, decaying matter of bones that might have been the Opera Ghost's himself. I grinned widely at Max who stared at the bones with wonder and curiosity.

"How could we find-…" she started but then fell silent, her face wrinkled in concentration. "Do you hear that?" she asked suddenly.

I shrugged and paused in my awe-inspired glee to listen about the room with all my might. At first, there was nothing and I thought Max must be going crazy again. Then I heard it. My eyes widened and I looked at her while she looked back at me. Somewhere from our side of the room, somewhere very faintly I almost didn't catch it, came the sound of strange chanting. I couldn't tell if it was a human voice or a radio or anything and we both leaned in close to the glass to hear it better. Of course, it gave me a lovely view of a spider web spun between the skeleton's toes; something I didn't need to see given the fact of who we wanted it to be.

"It's like it's coming from the wall," Max muttered, pressing her ear to the wall behind the case.

I nodded and copied, screwing up my face. It sounded phony and not frightening at all if we knew where it came from. It almost sounded as if someone else seemed to be shouting, in French of course. Briefly my mind slipped to the thought that Max could understand a little bit of French…until we seemed to fall right through the wall. It seemed as if we came right through the wall to the outside of the building for wind struck up and blew in our faces angrily. I faintly smelled the crisp, fall air. Funny, it smelled so much cleaner than the last time we went out. A man with large eyes and a ridiculous costume came into my way or stranger, seemed to be from below me if that made any sense. Perhaps we had come out of a window?

I opened my mouth to warn him that we might fall on top of him but it came to be too late and Max and I fell heavily on him, strange candles and stands falling over along with us. Barely getting a look around us, I saw that we somehow found ourselves in an open tent with little light streaming in from the open flap. The man kicked and struggled, freeing himself of his teenager pin-down. As soon as he saw what fell on him, he shrieked loudly upsetting both me and Max. There's something about screams that trigger a panic button in your brain. We shrieked as well and for a moment everyone stared at each other. Finally he seemed to get something and fear came back into his eyes as he seized a book on the floor and looked at it then at me then at Max. He screamed something in French and booked out of that tent like a bat out of Hell.

"Rude!" Max coughed, picking herself off the ground and looking after the man disdainfully.

"We don't look that bad, do we?" I asked lightly, checking myself for dust.

Surprisingly, I couldn't find any. Max just shook her head and looked behind us, a look of pure confusion on her usually serious face.

"This wasn't here before…" she said slowly, touching the solid wall behind her.

I joined her, equally confused. How had we passed through? Immediately my movie-based mind switched to secret door and I began to push and prod at the wall, trying to find some sort of way it worked.

"There wasn't a tent by the Opera," Max mused to herself, looking about as I gave up. "Was there, Emma? No, of course not, that'd be impossible. Why was he there?"

I shrugged and carefully tiptoed about the mess, reaching for the tent flap. Again, I felt rather confused at the noise…or lack there of. It seemed less noisy and I didn't hear that ridiculous truck horn that blared once every two minutes since that morning. All I heard seemed…old. If noises could be old, that is.

"I can't understand any of this!" Max fumed, looking thoroughly exasperated. If she didn't understand something, we would all be in trouble because I knew and she knew that I knew nothing of anything so wouldn't be much help. If that makes sense, of course.

"Yeah," I replied automatically, staring out at the familiar, but not familiar territory. "Um, Max?"

"What?"

"When did everyone start wearing 19th century clothing and riding in carriages?"

She turned to me and frowned.

"Back in the 19th century, obviously."

"Well," I looked out the tent flap again, a rock sinking in my stomach. "They've certainly brought it back now….and everyone seems to have gotten the memo about it besides you and me. To make a quote, 'Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.' Except replace the Kansas part…with the 19th century. We're so screwed."

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**Hope everyone likes! I like to move things a little fast to keep it interesting, but I'm not sure if that's the way to go. Gimme an idea of what you think! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey! Thanks all for the favorites/story alerts! They make me so happy! I love knowing someone is reading and enjoying my stories. Thanks to those who reviewed, chi and phantomsloveangel. I'm inspired and helped! Anyways, for this chapter, it took forever to figure out actual dates and even then they might be wrong so overlook them. **

**DISCLAIMERS: I don't own Phantom. Never have. But that's why there's OC. **

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**Part Four:**

Max stared at me and then finally came towards me, pushing me fully out of the way.

"Stop kidding around, Emma. This is bad enough as it is." She said grumpily.

I shrugged and moved out of her way. This was bad, but that didn't make me want to deny it. Yet. Watch, as soon as someone tried to talk to me, seeing my baggy jeans and normal t-shirt, I doubt I'd be able to keep my cool. Max looked around at first calm, cool, and collected. Then started noticing the strange garb, the strange sights, and the assortment of things that belonged in a museum, her jaw dropped and she withdrew her head back inside her eyes wide. I could only shrug.

"What did you do, Emma?" she moaned. "What in the world did you do?"

I was shocked. Well, not really. I'm quite used to being blamed and usually it _is_ my fault.

"What did I do?" I echoed, "I found out they were hiding something! Wait until we get the government on them. 'There's no such thing as the Opera Ghost' my butt!"

She didn't listen to me and started to look around for her bag. Fetching it, she grabbed some tea that lay nestled between our copies of Phantom of the Opera and an ancient CD player that skipped if you tapped the top of the case.

"We need to get out of here." She said slowly after taking a calming sip. "We have a band concert tonight! Tonight! How can we go if we're in the 19th century?"

I shuddered to think of what would happen to us if Mr. Perini found that we weren't there for the concert. Or Mr. Party for that matter. I and my clarinet's hide would be his and my head and its mouthpiece mounted on his office walls on a shiny silver plaque. Gruesome, but once you threaten the sound he creates, he gets scarier than the casual vampire look. In pure effort, we spent ten minutes or so pushing that stupid wall, hoping it would let us back in wherever we once stood.

We had no luck, of course. I sighed and we slid down to the edge of the wall.

"I hope no one finds us," Max muttered. "Not until we figure this out."

Almost on a cue, we heard footsteps outside the tent and a few voices barking to each other importantly. We took one look at each other and then scrambled out of the other side of the tent as fast as our scrawny legs could take us just before some official looking people threw open the tent flap. Puffing and nearly crazy without enough oxygen we ran a little ways down and stopped to look around us.

"An alley!" I gasped, not used to running suddenly. "We're not even next to the Opera House??"

Max suddenly grabbed my arm and hid us both behind a wall as she peered over to our tent. A familiarly annoying little man bobbed around, still gibbering in French. Out in the sunlight (that currently was burning my skin off) he looked even more ridiculous than he did when we saw him in his own territory. A tall, squared cap sat on his dark hair and his bright red-yellow-blue costume sparkled with glitter as he hopped about, probably explaining how two young girls in men's clothing came and fell on him. An officer-appearing man seemed to be listening, half serious half amused though the latter emotion was prominent on his face by his slight grin. I liked him on the spot and hoped that the strange tale our magician-like friend spun was merely that. A strange tale. For the first time that day besides breakfast, I started to snigger, holding a pale hand to my mouth to muffle the noise.

"It seems our little man was trying to turn us in," Max remarked dryly, pulling back her hair in a hair band. "Lucky for us he isn't the type to be believed, is he?"

I shook my head, my shoulders still quaking with smothered laughter. Max grinned slightly then the seriousness of our position came back to her and her shoulders wilted. I patted her back sympathetically, worried slightly myself. I didn't want to show that to her, though so instead I put my little albino head to work.

"Well, first of all, we should know the date." I said, tapping my chin thoughtfully.

Max nodded agreeably. "We should get back to the Opera House, too. Maybe we can reverse the process."

"Now we're getting somewhere!" I congratulated, slapping her a noisy high five.

Being as ninja like as we could, we shouldered our bags which had thankfully traveled with us and snuck around the allies, avoiding any suspicion by coming into the sunlight and exposing ourselves as weirdoes. Not that I wanted any sunlight at all. With no pigment to protect me, we albinos had it rough when it came to long term exposure to sunlight. Now I wished fervently that I listened to Max this morning and put on the sloppy goop called suntan lotion.

Slowly, things started to look slightly familiar. The streets still winded this way and that, helping us along even if street signs and stoplights and people did not. Megan stated that she could still understand the French people, but it seemed to be a little more formal than what she was used to. We breathed a sigh of relief as we came up to the familiar Apollo-guarded dome of the Opera House. If it had been a person, I would've hugged that thing. Now our trouble was getting in without attracting attention. No one looked like us, and with our turn of the century styles (ha, like we had style) we would stick out like pumpkins in a string bean patch to get my country on.

But with Max's genius and my mad skills, we snuck in and immediately headed for the shadowy part of that music-inspired palace. It seemed the same almost except a heck of a lot less dust around and there were no snooty, bird men who gave tours.

"We need to know the year," I muttered, flipping open our Phantom book.

Hey, we were in Paris, France inside an Opera House stuck in the 19th century. A girl's got to dream. Max stared at it, then snatching it out of my hands stuffed it into her bag.

"This isn't the time, Emma." She said, looking like a strained mother with a less than corporative child. "I'm a little bit more worried about getting back."

I pouted but held the certain date in my mind. If it matched with whatever one we got, life would be so much more interesting here than in our missing future. Slowly and with great composure for one who isn't in her time, Max hailed someone and spoke politely in French. It was a simple sentence. The simpler the better as she put it. 'What is the year?' For once, I was glad that Max decided to clothe herself more simply today in her modest, printed dress for the guy didn't stare at her but responded quickly and left. She wouldn't be in the style of the day, but I think it was better than a chick dressed as a dude and an odd one at that. As she came back I congratulated her on sounding like a believable French woman.

"I'm just glad I listened in class," she said, sending a meaningful glare at me. I shrugged feeling that had I been a Wal-Mart smiley face, I would've had a sweat drop over my head. She sighed and picked up her bag again.

"It's 1880, if that makes you happy." She murmured, watching out for anyone who might notice us. "Only one hundred and twenty six years to go before we're home."

I must admit, I perked up quite a bit despite the fact that even if we tried to grow up and reach the future we would die, I rifled through my Phantom book once more. If I was correct, we were one year or so before the entrance of the story where Erik started to sing to Christine. Max, knowing what I searched for smiled slightly but then looked up as footsteps could be heard. I also did, snapping the book carefully shut in case anyone noticed. A small group of gentlemen passed, all of them talking quietly amongst themselves like they held a secret. We moved deeper into shadow before being noticed by one of the older ones. There conversation, however, was most informative according to Megan who was the only one out of the two of us who could understand and speak French. I cursed my laziness and listened as Megan translated for me.

"They're talking about stage placing right now," she murmured quietly. "And…ah, that one, the tall one with the long face, that's… I don't believe it, that's Monsieur Debienne!"

I peered closely at the group in awe, trying to get Max to see if she could hear about anyone else.

"What about Polywobbles?" I hissed, meaning Poligny.

"He's in his office, I think… I don't remember what that word means." She replied back, a look of concentration on her face.

After a few more moments, they moved on ahead and it was safe to steer ourselves deeper into the Opera House. I kept looking up and about, wondering if we would get to see a glimpse of the Opera Ghost. We were in the right time period, Gaston still had not written the book that lay inside our packs, and there seemed to be an aura of mystery all around us. A delighted shiver ran down our backs.

"Dancers!"

I pointed excitedly, the slender young ladies off more ahead, scampering in their flesh colored tights and gauzy tutus. I moved to follow them, trailing a nervous Max behind me. Before long, each dancer had disappeared into either of two rooms straight across from them. From the shrieks of laughter and chatter, I could only assume these were the dancers' dormitories. Max grabbed my hand suddenly and pointed more towards the dark halls.

"There are more rooms down there," she murmured. "Didn't Christine have one farther away and off towards the back…?"

"That's right!" I exclaimed as we moved slowly towards those darkened rooms. "What if she's actually here…?"

Max shushed me as another group of dancers giggled about twenty paces away. We couldn't be bothered by them and we tried different doors frantically before they could catch up to us. Finally a door opened to Max's touch and she shoved me inside. We listened attentively to the door, rather annoyed at how gossiping girls' barely changed in over a hundred years back.

"I'd hate to be one of them," I muttered, turning around to view our surroundings. It was more of a broom closet than anything else and disappointed we headed back out.

"This one opens," Max called, opening the one across the way. "It's a dressing room, too!"

We scurried in quickly, broad grins finally across both our faces. It indeed was a dressing room and it seemed unoccupied for sheets covered up the little furniture that sat inside. I ran about excitedly, trying to drink in all the old fashioned looks as I could. Max looked about, pulling off sheets to admire the furniture. Finally we stumbled upon the greatest find we could have ever hoped to find. The large, full length mirror.

"No way," I gushed, "we actually found the right room?"

"It could just be another room with a mirror, Emma," my friend reminded me realistically. "We can't just assume it was Christine's."

"Will be Christine's," I corrected, feeling around the edges in fascination. "Quick! Look up the part where Daroga goes through with Raoul, maybe we can actually open it!"

"Would we want to?" Max wondered darkly, but obeyed my wishes.

It was harder than we would've imagined seeing we spent almost half an hour pushing and pressing and tugging all around that mirror with no success. Max leaned on the glass with a heavy sigh while I paced in front of her.

"What in the world are we missing?" I complained loudly.

I tapped the mirror above her head and glared at my ghost-like reflection. I bared my teeth and made one last face at it while Max rolled her eyes at me. Leaning on the wall next to both I sighed impatiently.

"This is almost impossible. There has to be a-…"

I didn't have time to finish my sentence when the wall moved slightly beneath the small of my back and the mirror swung open, Max falling through with a startled shriek.

"Oops…"

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**It'd be amazing if it was all as easy as it sounds. Just imagine it much, much harder. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I'm so glad this story has found you. And I'm glad it's not another sucky story everyone passes over. Anyways, great thanks to my reviewers: chi, phantomsloveangel, and L'Arcange!  
**

**DISCLAIMER: Phantom is not mine, but my characters are. And this idea for the story. Though it was inspired by Phantom. Ha. **

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**Part Five:**

I hastened to the newly opened mirror with slight urgency, worried that Max might've disappeared. Certainly I would've never expected my laziness to be the key in opening anything. Pretty awesome, though. I would definitely have to tell this one to some of my teachers.

"Max?" I asked timidly, peering in. "Are you okay?"

Thankfully she did not fall far from the opening and was there lying there on the ground, waiting to greet me with a kick in the shin and a dust-covered, scowling face. As I hopped around in momentary pain and relief, she got up and shook the remains of the floor that covered her.

"Nice going," she growled, both annoyed and pleased. "Wouldn't have thought of that one, I suppose."

"Thanks," I whimpered as she looked around the chamber inside the wall. She looked at me with a fond, but tired expression and motioned for me to follow. We would need to be out of the way before anyone saw us walking into a room inside the Opera walls. I limped in after her and none too soon for the mirror closed behind me firmly with an ominous groan. We stared at it nervously but banished the thought that we might not be able to get back out. Still, I'd much rather go in this way than poor Joseph Buquet's way. I think we all know who he ended up.

"Onward?" I asked, grinning.

Max smiled briefly then nodded and we started off. We were getting very impulsive these days. I guess time travel and being stuck in a time where you can't even ask where the bathroom is starts to get to you. Anyways, it all felt like the dark tunnel explained in the book and I wished to take it out, but not even a glowing red light was to be found. Water could be heard from ahead and eagerly we ran forward.

The fountain gushed still. I shook my head. Of course it would, Erik hadn't even been here for the purpose he would yet. I kneeled down in front of it in amazement, almost reenacting Erik's soon to be action of placing water at the woman he loves' temples. Max touched the water briefly in her own connection of joy, a look of awe on her face before pulling me to my feet.

"C'mon," she murmured, "I can see the rest of the way."

It felt like forever when we moved on, especially coming to the long, narrow gallery that would lead us down the cellars of the Opera House. The cellars were the worst and gave me chills like no other. I clung to Max's arm as we counted how far we went down and passed the boilers that raged and spit. One, two, three….we came to the fourth cellar now. Without those flames from the boiler pits it became pitch black and we clung tight to one another to prevent being separated or tripping and somehow dying on something.

I shivered slightly then smelt the air. It was wet like air next to large bodies of water like a lake or ocean…or a school quad yard that got overflowed once by three toilets clogging at the same time near the end of school last year. I glanced at Max to tell her, but she had already felt the moisture in the air as well and looked forward, her hazel eyes wide. Peering ahead, we could see it. Blue light. Shimmery, hazy blue light.

"It's actually here," I murmured in a hushed voice as we walked slowly towards the light.

"Of course it's still here," she replied snappishly, probably to take away the unreality of all of this. "The Opera had to be built with it, Erik or no Erik."

"Oh yeah."

Max clung to my arm whether out of fear or excitement I couldn't tell since I felt rather much the same. I was grateful for the less of light, though. We took our time approaching the lake and at one point jumped and almost screamed due to a rat running suddenly across our shoes. Luckily we both had the same idea and clapped a hand over each others' mouth.

"Just a rat," I half laughed half stammered. "I had a rat once…"

Max already had let go of me, though and was trudging towards the shore of the lake with me flailing behind. She stopped halfway and I trod on the back of her Converse', literally running into her.

"What is it?" I hissed, my voice going soft in case it was something none to wonderful.

She pointed silently instead. I did a jaw drop. This was too perfect, too awesome, too story-book like! There, tied to a stake driven deep into the ground was a boat. The boat. The boat of wonders that would take us to the house of wonders which would hopefully take us to meet the man of wonders, literally. It didn't come with a long pole to manage it as popular belief states, but regular oars. Just like the book. Chills came again as we rubbed our hands over it and gave each other gleeful looks. Tired of looking, I untied it and threw both the oars and my pack into the wooden bottom, clamoring in myself.

"All aboard!" I said cheerfully. "Quick, Max!"

Rather hesitant, Max barely made it into the boat as I picked up the oars. She kicked my pack aside to lay her own down, sending me a glare and wringing out the corner of her dress that had gotten wet when she had jumped after the boat. I stared at the wooden tools in my hands thoughtfully, trying to remember the time my mother taught me to row when she took me fishing. That had ended up with odd conversations and a whole bucket of scrawny, stinky, gasping-for-air-I'm-dying-in-your-hands fish. Moving on…

"I didn't think we'd actually cross the lake," Max said breathlessly as we skimmed unevenly over the glass like waters. "Sure, go to the bottom, but the lake…"

I nodded, too busy for a vocal response. She trailed off then and looked over the edge while I rowed along, trying to get rhythm into my slapdash labor. Strange how we hadn't run into any traps. I thought there would have been some, especially if we were talking about a disfigured genius. I mentioned this lightly to Max but she was looking about her nervously as though listening to something. She shushed me by placing a finger to her lips and motioned for me to stop rowing. I obeyed and listened with her.

"I don't hear anything," I began, until it came.

That soft, sweet noise that seemed to come from all around the boat. If I could go any paler, I'm pretty sure I did.

"Siren," I mouthed frantically.

She nodded, looking faint herself. It was so beautiful, though. Almost like Celtic music, but less annoying and more understandable. Against my better judgment and knowledge of what it exactly was, I strained to catch the words almost tilting to the side to hear it. Certainly there should be words to such a lovely melody. I glanced at Max dreamily. Surely there wasn't anymore danger. Not from such an innocent tone. I wanted to know if my friend could share in my enjoyment. To my surprise she was neither lightheaded nor misty-eyed but alert and having her hands fully covering her ears against the noise. I frowned.

"You can't hear it if you do that," I reminded her, picking up the paddles cautiously again. Her alertness brought the danger of it all back to me, something I felt both thankful and annoyed at. She scowled at me but pointed to the shore we came from, silently telling me to take us back as quickly as possible.

"He won't tip the boat," I whispered, shaking so hard I could barely grasp the oars with my fear returning. "Would he…?"

Max shrugged, wide-eyed as the sound got louder and more earnest and if possible, more unbearably sweet. He was calling us. All the hairs on my nape stood straight up and I tried to paddle calmly, acting like I couldn't hear it. The boat rocked slightly, bumped from underneath.

"The pipe!" Max whispered helplessly, "He uses the pipe to breathe, look for it!"

"I'm scared out of my pants as it is," I whispered back, "you look and I row."

Even though I said it and made it seem simple, like our fear of the sudden appearance of a rat I scanned my poor eyes across the dark waters. It felt cold now and I shivered, wishing I had my jacket that lay on my hotel bed in the 21st century. No luck getting that one. During my thinking Max leaned tentatively over the side to look around the sides of our little vessel.

Funny. Even in this situation where we could possibly be murdered, I found a link to the scene from Phantom. Before Christine, that Daroga guy had done this exact thing. He knew it was Erik and he knew he must look for how it worked. He leaned over the side, too. Silly man, he should've known Erik would be waiting for him under the water. Wait. Leaned over the side?

"_Get away from the edge_!" I half yelled half whispered and reached out to grab my friend's shoulders.

The siren was quicker. Two, pale, bony arms made themselves known beside the boat and latched onto Max's neck, pulling her overboard. She barely had time to scream before going under the dark green waters.

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**Hope this is good for you all! I'm enjoying myself. Tell me what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you, thank you all for reading, favoriting, alerting, and most of all, enjoying! I hope this has been good for you all. I've enjoyed writing this and I can only hope you all gain enjoyment out of reading along. Big thanks to my reviewers always, chi, phantomsloveangel, L'Arcange, and rnkmaniacal!**

**DISCLAIMER:** **Phantom cannot be mine because Phantom would not be Phantom. I think.**

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**Part Six:**

"MAX!" I screeched.

I stood up in a panic and before trying to think out what could happen to me, I dove into the waters myself right where they disappeared. It was freezing. That much I figured out on demand but that wasn't important right now. Frantically I looked around, wishing for goggles and wondering briefly if my contacts would fall out. Churning bubbles came to my left and I swam quickly over to see if it were them. If I knew Erik at all, Max would be dead in minutes. I could see Max, and then if I wasn't under water and could gasp, I saw the strangler himself. Sort of. The green water made it hard to see them but luckily the siren's luminous white skin helped me track them down.

In pure panic and strong wanting of the releasing of my friend, I seized the hands caught around her throat and bit down on them as hard as I could. A muffled, bubbly screech could be heard and the arm snapped back to try to do anything it could to harm me. Or at least to free itself of my teeth. Luckily the grasp of those bony, long fingered hands (That I swear are just perfect for strangulation) was weakened and I kicked hard to get Max above water, prying her out of the death grip. She wasn't moving and it was only when we broke the surface of the lake did she gasp and choke out for life… and oxygen. I looked around for a moment and I couldn't find the boat. We would have to rely on ourselves now.

"Swim!" I gasped at her. "Swim that way! Now!"

I pushed her hard in the direction I thought was the shore we came from and started to swim after her. She floundered only for a moment before swimming as hard as she could. This was a really stupid idea. I would be held guilty if we both died. How ironic would it be for us to die in the hands of the man we admired? Very ironic I tell you. I swam harder, cursing the times where I skipped out on getting into the swim team. I kept an eye on Max, silently urging her forward so I could reserve my strength for screaming later.

Something ice cold and hard wrapped around my ankle, though and I swallowed a mouthful of water as I got drug under. Erik was back and he was mad. Or maybe mad-_er_ since I bit him. Blindly I twisted and wriggled as hard as I could, but the hand groped its way to my neck and another came to join it in its death hold. My eyes felt like they would bug out of their sockets as my lungs screamed for air. I could barely see the white figure in front of me. I was loosing feeling in my neck, if that's possible, too.

A glint of gold caught my eye as I strained for consciousness. Time for Plan B, and Plan B wasn't nice at all. In fact, I probably wouldn't have done it if I thought more about it. But no, I gave one more violent struggle, bringing him closer towards me to make certain I would die. It was it. I gave him a strained grin and then kneed him as hard and as well as I could right 'where the sun don't shine'. A muffled cry of pure agony and lots of air bubbles came from him and I was able to fight back the death fingers, prying free. Without looking back and with an elephant load of guilt on my shoulders I swam as hard as I could to the surface. Luckily both Max and the shore came closer and with a last burst of speed, I felt the sandy, slimy bottom beneath my thoroughly soaked sneakers.

Max sloshed over and helped me as my knees weakened suddenly and I stumbled.

"Are you okay?" she asked frantically, grabbing my shoulders, "He didn't get you?"

"No, I kind of got him first," I coughed. "Where's the opening? We got to get out before he...er…resurfaces."

Max shrugged as she had only just got to the shore as well. We jogged around both looking nervously over our shoulders towards the water when we found out something we didn't realize before. We were on the wrong side. And in front of us, now, in all its glory was Erik's house. And it actually kind of looked like a house from the outside. My jaw dropped with a slight excitement back into my pounding heart besides panic.

"His house?" Max stared up at it, flabbergasted. "This isn't the other shore, Emma!"

She turned to me with killing intent, water dripping down her arms that reached for me. I yelped and scurried out of her way.

"I'm sorry!" I yelped again, "I didn't know, I swear! I-…whoa, help."

I skidded to a halt and immediately walked backwards, Max running into me. The lake was moving again and a shape burst out, groaning in both pain and irritancy. We stared for only a moment before immediately backpedaling, looking for somewhere to hide or run. It was no use. With water streaming down that tall, skeletal figure he came at us. I couldn't even focus on him well enough to see if there was a mask or anything; my mind was too much in panic mode.

Oh.

My.

Leroux.

The book never did give him justice on how terrifying Erik really was. And there he was. In the flesh. Or what little flesh he actually had. Like a god of Halloween, his sunken eyes burned with the flames of a hundred bonfires and the death's head real and out of human comprehension. My knees instantly were struck with weakness and my eyes felt they could go no wider. Death was walking towards me. Not a man, but a living corpse of one and animated in such a way it was ominously awesome.

No one can really understand the fear of an object until they see that object for themselves. It seemed as if Fear had made itself a mannequin to haunt us. Luckily, despite our terror, there would be no screaming for my throat seemed to close up on me.

"Arm to your eyes!" Max said suddenly, forcing mine up, "He's got something in his hands! Arm level to your eyes, you idiot!"

We were backed against a wall and we babbled like idiots, trying to get each others' arms to stay up. It's no use and he is upon us in little or no time. In desperation I call his name, hoping that it would confuse him.

"Erik! Erik, please don't kill us!" I called to him, still scrabbling with Max.

Brilliant plan, Emma. Tell the man you just kneed in the groin not to kill you. He ignored me for the most part and would have gotten us in a deadly noose had he not paused slightly at the use of his name.

"Erik!" I didn't mean to hurt you, honest!" I continued babbling, this time able to face him enough with Max at my back, her hand protecting both our necks. "We can leave, Erik! We won't let anyone know!"

He cocked his head in such a manner I almost smiled. I have a bad habit of smiling when it is not the time to smile at anything. Still approaching us, though he glared directly at me with slight surprise. I flushed as much as my pale skin could let me and hoped he didn't think of me older than I was. Maybe he wouldn't kill kids, but no one said he wouldn't kill an old person. In the start of that moment I didn't really focus on his face but more on the hands that hid a dangerous weapon.

"I know you probably can't understand me, but don't kill us!" I stammered, but more softly.

That stopped him and he opened his mouth and said in perfect English, with a lovely, sinister accent.

"Erik understands all tongues but Erik does not understand who you are. Explain now."

It wasn't a request and though Max shook her head violently and squeezed my shoulder hard as I opened my large, betraying mouth.

"Sorrelli! I am- I am Emma Sorrelli." I gave a crazed grin, hoping this would by more time. "And…and this is Max Jammes! Well, her real name is Maxine, b-…"

Max's hand clamped over my mouth and I speak no more. Erik's terrifyingly awesome eyes smolder and I think he's contemplating if it'd be okay to murder young ladies. Why not? He'd be kidnapping one soon enough. The cat eyes seem to be observing our attire, or at least my own since Max was passable as being normal.

"Where are you from?" He demands, taking a step closer to remind us we are not friends.

Max answers this time before I can launch into full explanation.

"We are from…we're with Daroga," she lies wildly though her face is admiringly calm.

Her nails bite into my shoulder to prevent my cry of alarm at our new identities.

"We are his…accomplices. He wanted us to view the Opera House since he was busy."

I have to admit, it's a pretty good lie to come up with right on the spot. Especially since Erik did not realize we knew his Persian friend, so far from just knowing his name. Not that I think he believed we were Daroga's friends. Poor man. We would cause him much more trouble than now.

Erik's eyes could seriously start a fire as he starts muttering under his breath in French turning away from us. Max later told me he was both wondering out loud and swearing, something she didn't care to interpret for me. I started to inch away, pulling Max with me when suddenly a bell rang out over the lake and both Max and I startled violently. Erik swore a little more and seemed to come at us again when suddenly a wicked, wicked gleam came to those hidden eyes.

"You say you are friends of Daroga?" he says, seeming rather pleased, "Well, you should know he is here now. Erik shall find out if you are indeed his accomplices."

I nod, wide-eyed. He, in what his face could manage to look like, smiled slightly and seized both of us in surprisingly powerful hands and dragged us towards the shore. I gasped slightly and felt like smacking my forehead. Somehow, that stupid boat was there whenever Erik needed it, not us. He shoved us towards it.

"Get in," he said curtly. "And we shall see who was foolish enough to enter Erik's domain."

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**Hopefully I gave Erik enough justice. xP**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the slow updates. My parents have insisted that I have a problem with the computer so have kept me far away from it. Blah. Ah well... Thanks to all the people who've been reading and favoriting! I'm glad it's so enjoyable! And thanks, always, to my reviewers chi, phantomsloveangel, L'Arcange, and mkmaniacal.**

**DISCLAIMER: Phantom isn't mine, but the story idea and orginal characters are!**

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Part Seven:

We were not in the best situation at the moment and things were looking pretty grim. No offense to Erik, of course. He always looks grim. I glanced at Max who sat rigidly beside me and hoped at least she would get out of all this. Erik sat across from us and his cat eyes never left us, sending chills down my spine. I don't think he would let us live once Daroga turned us down but I trusted perhaps Max could save us. After all, we weren't dead yet and I wasn't planning on dying at so young an age. Nor in the 19th century now that I thought about it…

The ride across the lake was smoother and quicker than I remembered what with our more than able rower companion. Soon the boat hit sand again and without taking his watchful gaze away, he hopped out of the boat backwards. A complaining voice started to come through to us as a tall figure made itself known. It was all garbled to me and I stared confused until Max whispered in my ear that Daroga, for that is who it was, was complaining to Erik in very fast French. It only sounded garbled because of his accent apparently.

Daroga wasn't much shorter than Erik and he looked like a very normal, Persian man compared to the walking Halloween scarecrow. He even had that hat that was mentioned so many times in the book. I stared at him as he was quite unaware of our presence yet, Erik seemingly waiting patiently for him to finish his rant. Max translated some for me so I could understand. Basically it was all complaints about health, time, and normal behavior. Finally I think he actually noticed that he and Erik weren't the only ones in that dark cavern for he started to stare behind Erik with wide eyes.

"He's sputtering," Max told me softly. "Ah, now he's in another language. Or is it back to French, now?"

I shrugged, wishing I had paid more attention in class when I had the chance. How was I supposed to know I would be talking with Erik?

Erik didn't reply to Daroga, but instead came towards us menacingly and though we clung to each other, grabbed my shoulder and tugged me ungracefully out of the boat, showing me off to his Persian friend. He now spoke English, whether for my benefit or to see if Daroga really was an associate or not.

"Will you explain who you are now?" Erik almost purred, making all the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. "Or does it seem that this man is one you don't know and you have been lying to Erik?"

"N-no, it's Daroga." I sputtered, avoiding the olive-skinned man's curious gaze. "I'd know him anywhere!"

I didn't dare look at Max, but later she told me that she was mouthing to Daroga as best as she could to get him to say we were with him. She didn't really feel like dying, either I suppose.

Erik turned to his companion and spoke swiftly in French which later I learned became to be him asking if he had ever seen our likes before. Poor Daroga…he looked really bemused and could only shake his head before catching my eye. I made myself look as pitiful as possible moving my eyes up and down instead of nodding as the bony claw Erik's hand could be called was still placed on my shoulder possessively. I think I freaked him out more though, because Daroga stared more with shocked curiosity than understanding of our position here.

I scowled. Couldn't anyone just look at me like a normal person? My thoughts were interrupted by Erik shaking me slightly.

"Well?" he asked either of us.

My heart sunk as Daroga shook his head again, still bemused. I doubt he even spoke English for my mouthing of names and curses seemed to be barely effective. Erik then rounded on Max, dragging her out of the boat as well with that superhuman strength. His anger renewed he looked to Max for answers, snapping in both English and French in his frustration in learning who we were.

"How do you know about Erik?" he hissed, "Erik's secrets are supposed to be Erik's alone! Speak or the siren shall have you!"

Max trembled under his burning gaze and I was a little more than a scorched out husk of myself. I swallowed hard.

"We're not your enemies," I said quickly, "We're friends! How else would we know so much about you two and not turn you in already? Not that you guys need to be turned in of course."

If anything, I think I only bothered Erik more by saying we knew more for he seized me by the head and whispered in the most terrifying way. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt how icy his hands were against my normal death-like pallor.

"What of Erik do you know?"

I started to grin, hysteria closing in on myself. It had been a long day and I've been sent back in time, chased by cops, went down a lot of freaky cellars, rowed across a lake, nearly got strangled, and now was being interrogated. Frankly, stress doesn't work well with me. I started to laugh wildly, smiling so wide it hurt. Erik just stared mutely at me while Daroga took a step back from me.

"I know your name!" I said, with more hysteria than enthusiasm, "I know you helped build this place! You live across the lake, you're the Opera Ghost, and you blackmail money off of the managers!"

Max, who long before had been dragged to my side chimed in, though her voice was calm and cool despite the fact she was almost as pale as a full moon.

"We got stuck here, monsieur," she pleaded while I giggled in fear, "please, look at our attire, have you not seen such odd things?"

She gestured to my shirt and my pants and sneakers, all thoroughly soaked but nonetheless not from the 19th century.

Both men stared at us and then at me. I held out my arms, showing off my 'attire' as well as I could without collapsing from the impending stress that knocked on my forehead. Erik released me and I almost fell if Max had not caught me, supporting my weak knees.

"Please believe us," Max said softly, "we have proof, you see! Look!"

She turned to the boat while hanging onto my arm and dragged out her own bag while Erik stood like a vulture over us, watching tensely. Max brought out her crappy CD player. In the eerie blue light and the fact that it was still beyond this time, it almost looked impressive in its shiny grey, bulky form. Daroga and Erik's eyes never left her as she slowly pressed play and offered a earphone she still had hanging on it to either of them.

Daroga started to mutter to himself, probably in Persian since I didn't understand a single word. He seemed rather bothered by the little machine.

Erik, however, took a step forward and accepted it, looking at it with a curiosity he could not suppress. My wild grin faded into a real one as I watched Max place the other in her ear and motioned for Erik to do the same. He copied her and the glint of his hidden eyes flashed suddenly as I knew music was spilling into his very head. He took it away quickly and stared. Max nodded, smiling weakly. He put it again to his ear and of course still heard whatever CD Max still had inside.

"Daroga," he addressed the slowly retreating man, "Daroga,_ écouter_!"

Daroga, listen.

But he would not and slowly shook his head, now staring at Max as if she were a demon or an apparition. Erik took the CD player from Max gingerly, inspecting it. He tapped it once and seemed surprised as the music, as I know it always did, changed rapidly into the next song.

"We have more stuff, if that's not enough," Max muttered.

Erik didn't hand back the CD player but pressed buttons with the fascination of a small child. He looked up barely and took away the earphone, frowning as well as his death face allowed.

"Erik believes you are not from here, as he has never seen anything like this in all his travels." Erik said slowly.

I smiled in relief. Perhaps I wouldn't be feeling the rope of the Punjab yet!

"However," he said, speaking to everyone now. "Erik does not keep guests. You will stay with Daroga. Erik wants to see more of this…"

Erik looked back down at the CD player in his hands before handing it back to Max who accepted it like a trophy. He turned to Daroga who looked suspiciously at his deformed friend and started speaking rapidly to him. Daroga blanched and argued back. Max came close to me while they argued briefly.

"I think this means they're going to keep us for a while." She whispered.

"Good," I whispered back, half smiling at her. "I've always wanted to be a pet!"

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**Hopefully I can work more this week what with the half days... :D **


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks all for the comments and reviews and favs! I wouldn't be able to do anything without you all! Big thanks to my faithful reviewers: chi, phantomsloveangel, L'Arcange, mkmaniacal, Victorian Era Drama, and shinigami109!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything but my own story and characters. No Phantom for Haleybob...**

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**Part Eight:**

I must state the truth, this day couldn't get any stranger. Erik won the argument with Daroga apparently, and now we followed both up another passage way with Daroga in front, then Max, then I, and then good old Erik following up in the back. If we tried to run, he would simply kill us. And he told us this with a straight face. I had a good reason to have goose bumps all over my skin and fear in my heart. I think I would've felt better if I could actually hear him behind me, though. They didn't call him O.G. for nothing I can assure you! Daroga must've come down this way more often than naught for he seemed very confident and we reached a door very soon.

A rattle from his olive-skinned hands told me he had brought out a key and didn't let me look until it was fitted in the door and light streamed in, showing all the dust hanging in the air. Cryptic feeling, much? I turned around and tried to tell Erik that he could stop following us as awesome as he was when I found the dang guy wasn't even there anymore! While I gabbled to myself in confusion, Max seized my shirt and pulled me along, following Daroga as closely as he would allow.

"So we're staying with him, then?" I asked Max quietly, even though our Persian friend didn't seem to be able to understand a word of English.

She nodded and we half ran to catch up with him. His strides were long and his dark face wore a scowl. Obviously not pleased in dealing with Erik's new toys. Ha-ha. Toys. I imaged briefly Max and I dressed as large Jack-In-the-Box toys with Erik tinkering away on our wooden noses. I cackled which brought a small eye roll from Max and a glance over the shoulder from Daroga. He kept to the more deserted streets and soon we came up to old apartments that were obviously lower class. He turned and spoke with Max in that odd, Persian affected French. I waited like a small child and I added a pout as well. I only understood so much but I managed to realize we would be staying with Daroga for tonight so that he could keep an eye on us for Erik.

Sleepover with the Persian! We followed him to his own apartment and I stared with wonder as his servant opened the door. He had the same dark skin and dark eyes though looked a little older and sterner with a serious, alert face. Good and faithful Darius. I smiled timidly at him as we passed but his focus was on his master. He didn't look very curious, though and he calmly brushed me after Max and Daroga.

Daroga's place wasn't over-fancy nor overly decorated. It was comfortable and without a word to us, he turned to Darius and instructed him something. We all stood in his small parlor awkwardly. I wanted so badly to whistle, just to break the silence. Daroga viewed me curiously again and I flashed him a quick grin, wanting to let him know I was a friend. Max was looking about the room with her deep, thoughtful eyes. I sidled over to her.

"What will we show Erik if he comes?" I asked her. "He won't be amused with the CD player forever."

She didn't answer for Darius had come back and had some clothes in his arms, one bundle for me and one for Megan. Oh fun, we'd be wearing Daroga's clothes. Secretly I wished they were Erik's. We took them and thanked him as well as we could but he only blinked once at retreated, waiting for his master to call on him again. Daroga looked to Max again and spoke to her, gesturing a door behind him.

"We can change in there," Max translated for me as my face screwed up in concentration. "He doesn't want us to be ill from the cold."

"Well, if we die, he'll know what killed us," I said cheerfully and looked at Daroga with as much thanks that my purple-pink eyes would allow. I was saddened to see he turned his face away from mine as we entered the room.

"He's so social," I said, rolling my eyes and throwing off my cold, wet shirt after Max shut the door firmly.

She only smiled and shrugged briefly before changing as well. The clothes were too large of course, but with the help of my belt I managed to keep the pants from falling down. I was glad to get into something warm, too big or not. Max didn't have as much luck with not having a belt so I poked my head out and looked towards Darius and beckoned him. He stared back at me but stood his ground. Freaking Persians… In effort, I stood out and pointed to my belt then pointed to Max inside.

Still he stared and I was about to give up until he left abruptly and came back with a black, leather belt. I grinned at him and took it from his hands. He left again. Daroga was no where in sight from the parlor.

"Try this one!" I tossed the belt to Max and finally we were clothed with dry, warm clothes.

I looked at the wet mass that was our personal clothing thoughtfully. I didn't really want Darius to touch my clothes or Max's, even though we had to stick with our cold, wet undergarments. It would feel too weird. So instead Max collected them in her arms and looked about for a bathroom of sorts.

"This place is so weird," I commented lightly, playing with a button on the shirt I was wearing. "It's like, all still dark-like inside. Do friends of Erik just like to have dark places?"

Max laughed and found the bathroom, a small little room with barely enough room for the bath and sink. There she carefully laid out our clothes and went out to find the others. I glared and made faces in the mirror, hating how sickly I looked. I leaned close to the mirror and inspected my contacts. Still there, amazingly. I was so absorbed, I didn't see Daroga come up behind me and tap my shoulder.

"I'm not vain!" I screeched at him, wide-eyed.

He stared at me like I was an escapee of a nearby asylum. Frankly, I couldn't blame him. I was more of a wreck than usual. I flushed as much as my skin would allow and I slipped out from the room muttering an apology he would never understand. Max was standing outside the door and gave me an exasperated look before she explained what was to happen to us. Daroga would let us stay here but if possible we would need to find another place and get out before Erik tired of us. I frowned.

"How can we leave if we don't even know how we got here?" I argued, sending a glare at the less than compassionate man for two poor souls like us. "If he hasn't noticed, Erik is a genius. He could help us!"

Max looked very tired.

"I know, but you know how paranoid Daroga was in the book."

"True."

I tapped my chin thoughtfully, wondering if Erik would fight with Daroga to keep us. That would be interesting to see seeing as Erik would never go out in daylight it seems. The Persian made his way over to us and talked to Max again which later turned out to be that he was sending us off to sleep in the parlor as Daroga's small apartment only had one bedroom. Darius slept on the floor next to his master for protection and a serious devotional problem.

Later into the night when both of us were settled as well as we could on the armchair and divan we talked quietly to one another.

"I'm just worried about how we're going to get home," Max said, punching the flat pillow behind her head. "I mean, our families must be going crazy."

"Yeah…" I thought of my own family. My parents had decided to travel in Europe while I was in France and wouldn't be home to find I wasn't there for at least three weeks. My sister was old enough to be in college and unaware of what I was up to.

"We could find that room again," I offered lamely. "Maybe if we go back, we can push the wall and go home."

Max shrugged.

"It's worth a try."

I flipped over on my armchair, trying to fit my legs in.

"Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's stay a little to look around, okay?"

"We'll see…"

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**Sorry it took so long! Summer's going to be my busiest month. xP**


	9. Chapter 9

**Welcome back, everyboday! Even though it was usually only me who left...anyways. I'm back and with an update for you all. Thank you to my faithful readers and my most wonderful reviewers: phantomsloveangel, chi, L'Arcange, rnkmaniacal, Victorian Era Drama, and shinigami109!  
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**DISCLAIMER: Phantom not mine. Original characters and sarcastic humor are.**

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Part Nine:

The morning was dim but even without the annoying hotel alarm we set for ourselves back in our own time, I woke up near six. Groggily I searched my pockets for my cell. Instead of finding that semi-reliant piece of machinery, I found a shirt and other clothing much too large on and nearly had a panic attack before popping up to look around, remembering where I was. When I was, too.

"Oh, my gosh, okay, I'm not in Vegas," I panted. "Sheesh…"

I looked around at the couch Max had been sleeping at but it was empty with the sheets folded neatly on the corner. Neat-freak Max. I smiled fondly at the sheets and bounded up, now hearing the slightly muffled conversation coming from the hallway next to the parlor.

"Max?" I called, turning a corner. "Is that you…?"

No luck. What I found was Daroga's kitchen along with Darius and him muttering to each other. They glanced my way as I stared rather stupidly at them. No Max was in sight but Daroga looked very grave. Darius never looked anything but blank so no change there. I stood awkwardly while they stared feeling rather stupid again.

"Where's Max?" I asked, hoping I wouldn't have to mime my way around these guys.

Thankfully Daroga picked up Max's name and the confused look on my face and attempted to explain. Unfortunately he and I could only relate through speaking French but I caught words I understood. Max was not here. Yes, amazing at interpreting skills has I. Beside the point, I wasn't going to be getting very far on learning where my friend was and that made me nervous. I couldn't do much on my own and being without ones almost-substitute-mother didn't help. With a withering look at the two men I asked in very broken French if she was with Erik.

"Just say yes or no," I commented as Daroga opened his mouth again.

He glared briefly (what a friendship we had) then pointed behind me. I turned slowly to find my friend with her hands on her hips staring at me with an amused smirk.

"Right here, genius," she said not unkindly. "Work on your French, we're both going to see Erik again."

She glanced at Daroga who looked very grim at the thought. Or, more grim than normal to be exact. Did anyone know how to smile more around here?

"He wants us to know he would not let us go if Erik would not stop hunting us down if we left," Max said dryly. "So he does not approve right now."

"'Right now'," I echoed, "but he's still leading us to him anyways. That's cool."

Max nodded and we followed Daroga after he was ready. Had to make himself grimmer I suppose. It felt like following a shadow. His skills at being unheard must've been acquired from watching over Erik. Although though this was all well and good, it didn't help him from being noticed by others. He and I had a problem of attracting people's stares I figured. That, and it didn't look too well that a grown Persian man was walking about with two young girls, one wearing a rather crumpled dress (Max got her clothes dried and changed before me) and one wearing a suspiciously not-my-clothing outfit that was much too large for her (hey, I forgot).

I tried to ignore a few of the whispers, not that I would understand them anyways and stares the snooty people had and I stared around at the brightly lit streets, the sun making my eyes water. Daroga's apartments were farther from the Opera House than I remembered and to not loose my way I clung to Max's arm lightly. I think I could understand now why Erik preferred the dark, I nearly cried with relieve as we came to the secret stairways that would lead us straight to the lake. It was a silent, almost monumental moment as we came up to the side of the lake.

I resisted the temptation to skip some rocks over the glowing, glassy surface. As if by automation, though, the water rippled and the three of us peered timidly into the dark to see a boat making its way towards the shore, a dark familiar figure atop it. Feeling like it was a dark, evil side to "It's a Small World After All" ride at Disneyland, my face cracked into a grin.

With leopard-like skill Erik hopped off the boat gracefully and this time he had his full face mask on. It leered at us with zero level of emotion but the curiosity behind it shown through to us. Out of pure habit, I waved cheerfully to him, almost hearing Max's hand smack her forehead. He gave me a look and turned to Daroga speaking to him briefly. Daroga scowled heavily at whatever Erik was saying and shook his head, crossing his arms. Max leaned in to help me out.

"Erik wants him to go away while he talks with us," she explained, "but obviously Daroga doesn't want to leave us with him."

"They argue just like…'in there'," I said with a grin, miming a book.

Erik didn't pay attention to our conversation thankfully but he turned to us and our mouths snapped shut. He observed my choice of clothing with unmoving eyes and I flushed slightly along with Max who usually would never ever wear things twice in a row.

"Odd choice of outfit for them, Daroga." He said, eyes flashing cat-like.

"We're the guinea pigs," I replied, rolling my eyes. "And we got soaked, remember? Er…" I stopped talking as the gold behind the mask narrowed into slits. "Perhaps you shouldn't remember. I'm sorry. I never mentioned it, 'kay?"

I sealed my lips up to prove that the painful experience would not be mentioned. Max sighed. Erik ignored me and went to strolling around Max half a pace.

"It proves they are not from here, Erik thinks," he said thoughtfully, viewing Max's dress that was certainly NOT of the timeline we were currently trapped in. "Erik has seen the world, but not anything as these things you promised to show him, correct?"

He cocked his head in a way of a curious dog. Max nodded firmly and rattled the bag I never noticed before in her hand. Without comment she drew out her cell phone, useless here of course but that never stopped us from playing Tetris, and held it out temptingly and flicked it open so it beeped. Intrigued, Erik took it gingerly and I noticed right then and there how long his fingers really were.

While he pressed buttons and stared, bemused at the screen while Max attempted to explain I viewed my own white hand and then at his yellowish one. His fingers must have had at least four inches more compared to mine. I goggled and chocked silently.

"_Magnifique_," Erik praised the little communicator, handing it back to Max, "I haven't seen something so intricate as that in the entire world."

"You shouldn't," she said, slightly embarrassed, "it won't be made for a long, long time."

"You'll be dead before it's here," I put in cheerfully as Erik looked doubtfully at my friend. Both of them glared at me and I fell hushed again.

"What else do you 'ave?" he asked, excitement making him stumble in his English. I could've swooned. Or record his voice, whichever came first.

I sat by the lake as Max pulled item after item out of the bag, from her cell phone to the little Ice Breakers dispenser. For once I was glad Erik didn't really eat but he did ask to take one and studied it for a while before giving it back. Max couldn't explain a lot of the really in-depth details and I could tell that Erik wasn't so happy with that. He was a perfect gentle-skeleton despite our lack of explanation.

I don't remember how long he looked at our stuff or how long it was before Daroga came back and started jabbering away to Erik again who looked thoroughly irritated by the interruption. Suddenly I had him come towards me, snapping those ultra long fingers at me. I stood hurriedly and scrambled to join Max who was trying not to look smug about something.

"What did they say?" I whispered.

"Erik thinks our appearance, although interesting, isn't the best for us to be walking around in." Max said, amused. "He's making Daroga go buy us 'normal' clothing." She put quotes over the 'normal' and I suppressed a grin. I would miss the pants and Daroga's baggy shirt, but to get clothes from way back in the day? Heaven, I tell you, Heaven. The two men started jabbering again and I looked to Max, my faithful interpreter. She looked shocked at whatever the guys were arguing about.

"Erik wants to come with," she said finally, smiling broadly.

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**And he shall! Weeew! Go Leroux!Erik. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Gutentag! Hope you're all enjoying the summer! Here's an update. **

**DISCLAIMER: Phantom isn't mine. He isn't even close to being mine... I'm gonna go cry.**

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**Part Ten:**

What was weird about it all was that I had forgotten Leroux's mentioning of Erik going out at all. I'm sure Erik had that mask he told Christine about. Or, to fit what was happening with us, _was_ going to tell her about. He used the fake nose, though and we couldn't go out until much later in the day when there would be less people to shudder and avert glances at him. I had Max almost beg me to get into my old clothes. I really was starting to like Daroga's stuff, truly. But to please my friend and to not weird the Persian out even more I changed and Erik arrived (on time) at the doorstop.

"_Gutentag_," I remarked cheerfully as I beat Darius to the door by leaping over the couch and half running. "We're not going to split up are we? 'Cause if we are, can I be with you? No one else gets English around here but Max and me…"

Erik passed silently, giving me an odd look but nodded his head anyways. Probably to shut me up I supposed as I followed him back inside cheerily. Darius showed him to Daroga and cast me a truly withering look. Shocking for one with lack of expressions if I do say so myself. Erik was wearing that fake nose that Armand _would_ explain in his manager's memoirs and I could only fully agree with the fact he looked "like death warmed over." It would be better than nothing, though. That and his long brimmed hat would make his face hard to make out in the dim light.

We set off down the poorly lighted streets after we all assembled together outside Daroga's apartment. I linked arms with Max, grinning like a fool. It wasn't everyday you got to go shopping with real people of your favorite book of all time. Even being a recluse with a stalker-like friend, Daroga and Erik knew where to go and who would be quiet about our strange attires and our business.

Besides the creepy fact of two young girls getting "proper" clothing with two grown men (one being around 50 for sure) it was fun. Painful, but fun nonetheless. That is, until we actually had to put on the outfits, Erik seriously was a miser with the money he would spend on two people from the future.

"Suck it in!" Max offered as a seamstress pulled and wrenched on the corset ribbons of an outfit I was to try on. I was dying! Death shouldn't be this close to me, honestly.

"What's it looking like I'm trying to do?" I wheezed but still tried with all my might to "suck it in".

My friend sat in a nearby chair, her new outfit already on and her old stuff in the box her gown had come in. It was admiringly lovely (Erik truly had good taste for a walking skeleton whose suits were cut just so) and she wore it and carried the burden of the small but painful corset well. The latest French hairstyle fit her long, lovely locks perfectly. Had I a camera with sepia or black-and-white settings, she would've fit the part of a back-in-the-day Duchess. Finest of them all, too not just the ugly ones that hid behind their titles.

I, on the other had, would still have problems. I refused to change my hair so they folded it up and adorned it with a few simple ribbons tucked under the thick veil on my hat for my odd eyes and nearly translucent skin. No color the ladies behind the shop counter found matched anything of me and I ended up in wearing a dark red gown that would only enhance my paleness. I felt like some living dead vampire chick and that, despite what I read, did NOT amuse me. But what could I do? The pale colors faded me out more and the dark colors could do nothing for me but strengthen how much I lacked in beauty.

I felt Daroga's disapproval of my actions and the only thing Erik was doing was getting frustrated that prices were rising again as he paid for our clothes. Max took my arm in hers and smiled kindly.

"Isn't this neat we can try this stuff out?" she whispered as the seamstress finished my dress.

I beamed and nodded, still happy that I could wear any of this stuff, even if it didn't look good on me. Too bad I couldn't wear the suits.

"I feel like a ninja Barbie doll," I said, twisting my veil and shifting my eyes back and forth."

Max was still laughing when Erik came to view us with a critical, miserly air that his money would not be wasted. Daroga would be getting a cab for us since our footgear wouldn't be easy to walk everywhere. That and I think Erik was getting edgy. Being outside, even in the dark seemed to make him tenser and his horrid face sparked every time someone cast him a curious glance then, repulsed, would walk quickly away.

It made me sad and, leaving Max to chat briefly with Daroga who openly approved of her sane and calm manner, I walked next to Erik who lurked over the shelves of frills and lace. He was talking to himself in his third person about whether we needed a weeks' worth or just a few days of clothing for surely we were magical and could go away whenever we pleased.

"_Merci_, Erik, for all of this," I said politely. "I hope it's not a problem…"

He glanced down at me from his towering height with curious, but distant eyes. The fake nose bugged me but I didn't let it show.

"None at all, mademoiselle." He said in a soft voice. "Guests from elsewhere should be treated kindly if one is to learn anything from them."

"That's true." I smiled at him but he only looked back towards the shelves and took out a watch.

"Come, we cannot stay out forever. We have enough for you both, Erik thinks."

Biting back a retort 'Well goodie for Erik', I followed his thin, dark figure out of the shop where the Persian and Max waited patiently. Well, Max was patient anyways.

"We got to ask how we can get back, Em." Max whispered as Erik hailed a cab. "We can't stay here!"

"They're not going to know anything, though," I said nervously, trying to ignore the men's curious glances as we loaded in. "We don't even know what happened!"

"We'll have to try," Max said firmly.

In the poor lighting I could still see my friend's face wrinkled in worry. She must really miss home. I did, too but I felt comforted with the company of Erik and the rest. Max always did worry the most, just as I worried the least as possible. Both problems. With a gentle smile I squeezed her gloved hands.

"Tomorrow then, we can search inside the Opera." I promised, "Maybe we can get back the same way! Don't worry."

She scowled.

"You need to start worrying, Emma. If we can't get back soon, what will our teachers do? Our parents?" she looked meaningfully at me and a twinge of guilt hit me.

"The time could've stopped back at home," I retorted. "We'd have time to kill and we could be missing stuff we could never do from here!"

Max rolled her eyes.

"Would you like to bet?"

"I would!"

And we shook on it, too. Winner got twenty bucks.

As if the driver knew where we were talking of (besides the bet), the cab stopped outside the Opera and Erik, with a courteous half-bow, ducked out and disappeared inside. Max waved briefly out the window in her usual habit. I coughed as the Persian tried to watch him carefully out of the darkened window. He drew back and smiled painfully at me, more a grimace than anything else. Once again, I wished we could have stayed with Erik. He turned to Max and started to address her and I leaned back, uninterested. I would have to practice my French.

"We're going to be at Erik's disposure," Max explained to me later that night as we made ourselves comfortable in Daroga's sitting room. "We get to see him for however long he's interested in us. Daroga is getting paranoid with having us around."

"Oh that's nice," I grumped, throwing a dark look at Darius as he passed, nose in the air. "I'm not too happy being here myself! I'd rather be with Erik. At least he's polite."

"We can leave this house as soon as we figure out how to get home," Max said soothingly. "Daroga will help as well as Erik."

"He better, the sourpuss. Or else I'm going to shove a-.."

"Goodnight, Emma."

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**Hopefully I can update again before we leave. AGAIN. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone! Summer's trips for my family is over and now I can update! Thanks so much to all my faithful readers and faithful reviewers: phantomsloveangel, chi, L'Arcange, rnkmaniacal, Victorian Era Drama, shinigami109, Wendi, and Othello101!**

**DISCLAIMERS: Phantom isn't mine, original characters with extra insanity are.**

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**Part Eleven: **

I awoke to an outrageously large appetite and a headache to match. Max, as always, bounded up and dressed quicker than I leaving me to grumble and glare at Darius who passed. I didn't feel like doing anything to annoy him just yet and I missed my coffee douse of the morning so I wasn't so cheery either. I was a little more charmed by the surprise I beheld when I walked into the kitchen. Oh yes, beheld is an amazing word. Anyways the surprise was that Erik would be joining us for breakfast and was deep in a conversation with Max who seemed to be stressing the fact that we needed to get home somehow.

He had his full mask on to my guilty relief. It's kind of difficult to eat when you have a man before you that looks like someone who's been dead for three years, amazing character or no. Daroga hovered above them, looking slightly irritated that he could not, I found, understand the English conversation. I doubt he would bother Erik about it, though.

I was, for once, happy that I was ignored at the moment besides the small flicker towards my direction from within the deep pits of the mask where Erik's eyes were hidden in. I looked for anything edible while listening in for the fill-up of the morning events.

"We came through a small room that looked like a storage place," Max continued, "So I was thinking if we can get back to where it all began…"

"You can go back in the same manner." Erik said solemnly. "Yes. Erik knows the whole Opera House; it would not be a problem to find it in less than a week."

My shoulders must have drooped more than I wanted for Daroga glanced at me curiously. I grinned and turned hurriedly away. Personally, I was happy here. I didn't really want to go back just yet. I glanced at Max whose face looked so pretty and completely relieved to be getting a chance to go home as she thanked our strange companion. But I guess it would be alright if I had a few more days to spend with the two old guys.

As if sensing my fondly insulting thoughts Max turned and waved a cheerful good morning to me. I joined her at the table, sending a grin at Erik who continued to observe us with polite interest.

"Emma, hear the plan?" she asked, smiling.

"How could I not?" I asked, nodding. "When do we get started, eh?"

Apparently it was sooner than I thought it would be. No less had I asked, Erik swung around to chatter in non-stop Daroga talk while Max hustled me out of the small corridors.

"Don't touch my clothes, alright Darius?" I managed to shout over my shoulder.

I didn't get to see whether Darius frowned or glared, either would have been fine as I knew he wouldn't understand a word I said, as we hurried out into the busy streets. People shrank or looked back in morbid curiosity at Erik who, I could tell that the fact he might be able to see something fantastic, was the only thing that kept him moving forward, his eyes never, ever moving. Max became Daroga's personal assistant about us, speaking in careful French to him.

I tried to capture our other, and by far the most mind boggling companion's attention with idle talk of what we'd already shown him. He nodded a few times to show he was listening but I had a feeling he would do just fine without conversation. Unfortunately I'm a chatty person and silence is odd with me. However, I clammed up after awhile and just took to taking peeks at him from beneath my veil, trying to burn his image in my mind for when we would leave him to go back home.

With Erik's face and wariness and Daroga's out of place I'm-not-from-here-but-I'm-stalking-a-person-I-know-from-my-homeland feel, it was a wonder of mine that we all even made it to the Opera House without any problems. Max and I were instructed to look as normal as possible (I think we both smirked at this) and to wander around like any other music fanatic. Daroga would attempt to follow Erik. I almost laughed when he worded it like that, after Max interpreted of course, but his face was serious.

"What will you do?" I turned to ask Erik, but he had already gone. "Wow…He's good."

Daroga turned towards me curiously then gave an irritated noise as he found the other man gone from sight. I think he was cursing but I couldn't, and probably didn't want to, tell as he stalked off leaving me and Max alone in front of the building. It was prettier in its proper time and I stood there with my mouth slightly open.

"C'mon, I think we can find the room better than either of those two," Max said, grabbing my arm.

We searched all over the place as well and as much as we were allowed. Most people didn't take any notice of us and often we could talk to each other with no worries of anyone overhearing with any curiosity. In an attempt to refresh our memory, we tried re-walking the tour we had. It felt so long ago but true to our memories we got part of the way until people would then turn us back.

"This is impossible if people will keep imposing," Max grumbled as yet another official looking person "kindly rerouted" us to the main dancers' lounge. "Honestly, I didn't think they'd be so pushy!"

"And yet so polite in doing so," I murmured distractedly, watching everything around us and trying to figure the best breathing exercises to work with my tight corset.

"Maybe we should take back pathways?" my friend muttered to herself. "Or perhaps…"

While her voice trailed on with different ideas, my head was elsewhere and, for once, thinking. It wasn't really about anything important like how we were going to explain our absence to Mr. Perini and Mr. Party, or how our parents' would be fretting their heads off, or even about how to find the room that would lead us back to all that. Instead, with the few people passing, I was thinking on how the two men across from us struck me as being brothers.

One was tall and handsome but way older than Max or me. He glanced once my way before with a courteous nod of the head and nothing else but a small twinge of curiosity. I flushed dully. Anyone who looked my way with even the slightest bit of interest about me and especially a guy would reduce me to slow thinking and a sharp reality check of who I was. The other man was much younger. He looked around our age, even though at least be 17 or 18. He didn't seem very interested in us to which I was thankful.

The way they acted caught my eye, and the way the older one laughed. I loved funny things. Truly, and that's not an excuse to my goggling at them because they were handsome, each in their own way. I then noticed the tall, slender woman with them, still in a dancer's gauzy tutu. She laughed and whatever the eldest said and smiled prettily though I had a suspicion she barely knew what she was laughing at. The older put a fond hand on the younger and the younger blushed girlishly. I guessed he was being introduced and or teased to the lovely lady.

"Heh, he's a blonde," I muttered to myself, grinning. "Hey, Max…"

"What?" Max turned to me with a frown, interrupting herself of a plan to raid the backstage. I was unabashed and pointed discreetly at the younger man.

"Doesn't that guy look like a chick…?"

"Don't be rude, Emma." Max said, rolling her eyes but she glanced in their direction. "Sort of, but he has a mustache."

I stared at her.

"What?" she asked uncertainly, "he does! A little one you see-…oh, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Blonde," I said softly, "a little blonde mustache, girlish complexion? An older brother who's very handsome?"

I pulled her off to the side behind a cabinet as to not let ourselves be known to the two men and lady. Max followed, confused and pulled at my arm though I could tell she was getting to where I was getting at.

"What are you saying?" she still asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

"I'm saying," I hissed, peeking out to watch our prey, "That those two men are our very Count and Vicomte De Chagny!"

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**Hopefully I can review much, much faster. Sorry for the wait!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello, hello! Sorry for the delay. Somehow I turn out to be busier during the summer than during school times and work times. Sucks. ANYWAYS, here's your guys' update! I'd like to thank all of you readers out there and also a special thanks to my reviewers: phantomsloveangel, chi, L'Arcange, rnkmaniacal, Victorian Era Drama, shinigami109, Wendi, Othello101, Yasu Uchiha, and** **Keyklee!**

**DISCLAIMERS: I don't own Phantom, but I do own my sammich.**

**Part Twelve: **

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"No way!"

In her disbelief I was shoved off violently to the side as she peered over at the two gentlemen who were quite unaware of our boggling. I dusted myself off and looked over her shoulder.

"Yes way," I said, hushed, "the Count must be introducing Raoul to everyone here. He did that before anything started right?"

She nodded slowly then motioned me to move. Somehow it felt a little dangerous to be so close to the would-be-in-the-short-future hero. Carefully as when we first snuck around the cabinet we edged around the corner and disappeared out of the lounge and down a darker hallway. I opened up another door, a broom closet to my dull interest and pulled Max in after me. For a light, Max had her cell phone. I stared. I didn't know she had that, still!

"Conserving battery," she explained when she saw my face, "I kept it to myself. Erik can see it later if it comes to that…"

Max's face suddenly became very concerned and she looked at me very seriously.

"Emma," she said, "we can't get involved!"

"Huh?" I'll admit it, I was lost on this one. Then again, I wasn't known to be very perceptive of what people try to tell me. Anyways, not get involved in what? The let's-drive-Darius-mad club? I wasn't quitting that; too much fun.

"We can't get involved with _anyone_ here," Max stressed, seeing my far off gaze. "Anyone! We could change time. They're not supposed to see us, and now I'm thinking we should have never given Erik anything. We could've messed something up in his future, or Daroga's or even that guy we landed on when we got here! Do you get it?"

I nodded, my eyes wide. That's right…it could turn out to be like those one movies where someone goes to a time that isn't theirs, and completely mess it up! Although those movies always made it to where the story and future whatnot _needed _them to go back in time, we weren't needed. We knew the story of Erik. He didn't. And I doubt we could do anything to make it so that Erik's tale would be unaffected and tragic, like it should.

That made me sad, though. We knew he wouldn't be happy in the end…not totally. But still, we wouldn't be here if we didn't here the tale, but also! ….My head started to ache so I stopped thinking about it. Until another, dread filled realization came to mind.

"The book!" I said suddenly, my head snapping up so fast I promptly gave myself a smack against the closet wall. "Ouch, what about the book? We left it!"

"I hid it, don't worry," Max said, twisting her hands together. "But I'm not sure we should even be with them! We can't mess anything up…"

I scratched my ear where my stupid veil tickled it, thinking abnormally hard.

"Well," I started slowly, feeling kind of crazy for mentioning it, "I think that…if we affected anything, the book would change. Right? So, we should just check the book to make sure we're not doing anything to harm the…future which is really the past…thing."

My friend stared at me.

"For once," she said, "I think you're making sense."

"Glad you noticed."

"We'll have to be extremely careful, though!" Max warned, opening up the closet. "We can't do something rash and just look at the book! We got to plan ahead…"

I was glad of my veil as I rolled my eyes behind her.

We met up with Daroga later on. It seemed that Erik had, once again, proven himself too tricky to follow, even though there wouldn't be much learned if he did. From Daroga, there was no sign of the room we described. Max's shoulders drooped but she thanked him for going through the trouble. Apparently he wasn't allowed places either. Frankly the way he stared at everything, I wouldn't let him anywhere either.

"Did anyone remember where we'd all meet?" I asked curiously.

I think everyone got, after Max translated for Daroga, that I didn't mean ourselves but mostly Erik's whereabouts. The Persian shook his head and made a helpless, irritated gesture. I sighed. This would be impossible to go find him ourselves as we all knew.

Thankfully Erik was almost physic for something gently brushed past me and I found myself swinging sideways to look up…and up into Erik's masked face. We didn't have to guess what he was about to say 'cause he said it so fast none of us could have had any thought before.

"Erik believes he has found it," he said simply.

Max and I crowded around him excite and blasting him with questions while Daroga sniffed pompously. Erik was unaffected by our excitement and only ordered us to "follow Erik" to the place we had been searching for. We followed quickly and Max and I couldn't help but look a little awed at how the old boy could be so quiet and stealthy. He took us through darker hallways and whenever people would pass, he seemed to melt instantly into the shadows while we walked along in the open. No one saw him I don't think.

All through this, though I have to confess I wasn't as excited to be on the way to finding the room that would take us home. I've said it before, I was happy here. I could stand my veil and the stares and the fact I couldn't really talk to anyone but Erik. I loved this time and I didn't want to leave it. As we hurried on, Max making her face passive as another opera guest passed and Erik disappeared, I wondered briefly about how Daroga would feel about keeping me.

Hey, it was only a thought. I didn't seriously think that Daroga would let me live with him or that I could just abandon my own time and my family. Still…I sighed and stared around as if it were my last time. Suddenly I had an outrageously desperate need to talk to these two men as much as I could. I wanted to get to know them better before all the closeness I would get is the ink and paper of their book. The fact I would leave them behind with knowing how their lives would end and they didn't have a clue left me feeling empty and sorrowful. I wanted a hug.

"Here, it matched your poor description," Erik said with a flourish to a door near us, sounding very courteous even though Max blushed furiously at the mention of her 'poor description'.

The four of us peeked in curiously and I could see what Erik meant by the insult. He was saying pure fact. The room was the same, I was sure of it but it was the size that was the only thing familiar. Everything else in the little room was changed. Instead of being empty besides the case that would hold the remains of the already skeletal man beside me (I swallowed hard on this one) the room was stuffed with props and bright costumes.

Well, the dust that coated these fine wares kind of told us it was the place where everyone stuffed stuff they didn't want. And lucky us, there was no pole on the floor to trip us up! Cautiously, as if something would cut his head off, Daroga picked his way through the pile to inspect everything in the best Chief of Police-y way he could. I hid a smile behind my hand. And people said I was always paranoid.

"Same size, same wall leading to the alley where you two came from," Erik said calmly, pointing a path me and Max could follow to let ourselves through the mess. "Familiar?"

"Sort of," I told him, squishing myself past a pile of dusty clothes. "It's the same room, of course!" I added hurriedly as his masked head turned towards me.

Max agreed absentmindedly, making her way towards the wall where we would, in the future, sink into Erik's world. My head started to hurt on that connection. Stupid time movies, making me think deeply about our own situation.

"Emma, come here by me," she said, motioning me to come.

Grumbling and throwing glances back at Erik and the Persian I reported to her side, near the wall.

"It was here, wasn't it?" she asked, pointing to the semi-covered wall in front of us. "And this is where we heard the music, right?"

I nodded unwillingly. "So we'll go back the same way?" I asked, wondering why we couldn't do this later.

"How else can we?" Max shrugged, "Last time, we just pushed against the wall…"

She reached out her hands slowly but she didn't touch the wall yet. I kept my own hands free in case the wall decided to suck us in. I glanced back at Erik and Daroga and gave a small wave. Daroga returned it halfheartedly and Erik's eyes flashed deep inside the mask. Our days with them…over so fast? I couldn't believe it.

"Keep in touch," I joked and kneeled next to Max, making sure I didn't look back. If I did, I know I would have jumped up and left my friend to travel by herself home.

Don't get me wrong, I would have followed in a few days; I just didn't want to go so early. Like, we barely got past just saying hello to these fellows! But we would have to. Perhaps this would be our only shot, and I couldn't let Max down. We glanced at each other and Max nodded.

Taking a deep breath, we raised our hands and pushed against the wall.

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**Sorry for the delay, again. Hope you're all enjoying!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello, hello again! Sorry for the long cliffy, our computer had a malfunction and we had to reboot the whole system. Needless to say but I lost everything. XP SO, getting everything back, saving stories, and trying to work on this all at the same time took a little longer than I would've liked. Thanks again for sticking with me and I'd love to thank my wonderful readers and reviewers: phantomsloveangel, chi, L'Arcange, rnkmaniacal, Victorian Era Drama, shinigami109, Wendi, Othello101, Yasu Uchiha, and** **Keyklee!**

**DISCLAIMER: After much sobbing, Phantom still isn't mine. Curses.**

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**Part Thirteen:**

Nothing happened. No spark, no magic, no weird chanting…and definitely no time traveling. We stared at the wall for a moment then glanced at each other. Was there something we were overlooking? Max's face held nothing but shock and before I could lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, she smacked the wall in sudden frustration.

"Why didn't it work?" she nearly yelled, standing up furiously to scan the walls with her hands.

My eyes wide, I could only shrug and darted away back towards Erik while Daroga quickly made his way to Max, frowning in what I could only guess was concern. The two of them spoke sharply to each other in the common language they shared, both scanning the wall with obvious annoyance at the failure. I felt a little insulted. I didn't think we were that bad of house guests… Erik placed an unhealthy looking bony finger to his mask as I climbed over a pile of old costumes, caked with the dust of disuse.

"You could not repeat your…travel." He stated to me, his body language stating that there would be a frown on his face if he didn't have his customary mask on.

I shook my head and sighed. No going home for us now. I would try my hardest to not be pleased around Max, but deep down there was a hint of worry. Before, we had a plan of getting home and therefore we could relax and spend some time with supposedly fictional characters until we wanted to go back. Now, with no way that we knew of, it felt almost frightening. Funny thought, but I don't think Erik would be so keen as to give me a hug, no matter how distraught I would be later.

On that note, I'd like to share something real quick to explain that. Being distraught at the very moment it happens doesn't click well with me. I'm the type of person who'd rather wait it out all day, then sob into my pillow for a good two hours or so once I got home and was alone, depending on the situation. This was more of a one hour sobbing session, I decided for myself. Of course I don't think Darius would let me borrow his Master's room for my tear-shedding, the heartless goon.

"Nope, it's a dead end plan," I said finally, standing next to Erik while reminding myself not to stare too much at him. "Nothing happened like it did last time…"

He nodded once and continued to watch as Max and Daroga look over and question and bicker with each other. I looked over as well, twisting my hands together to let off some energy. Poor Max. I knew she really wanted to find a way back. This was a hard blow for her, so much more than it was to me. It didn't seem like the Persian and her were getting anywhere and with another miserable glance towards the wall, Max returned to us.

"Well, that's it." She said as her face forming into a sad little pout she only does when really upset. "We can't get home, now."

Almost on cue, Erik and I gave her our sympathies (my wording a little different since I was in the same predicament) and without another word the group headed back out of the Opera. The streets seemed a little more foreign and the sky expanding so largely above us that I instantly felt insignificant as we walked out. Erik, off to do his whole haunting/terrifying the Opera people thing, disappeared from our side before we even touched sunlight.

None of us remaining spoke a word, each lost in their own thoughts. Not that I had any real thoughts, I was feeling a little more panic than I was comfortable with. Instead, I switched my mind to a song that popped in my head, ready to keep me busy. Yeston/Kopit version, the ominous solo of Erik's: "Parie is a Tomb". It wasn't really helping.

With that unsupportive music playing in my mind, the rest of the day was almost a blur. Darius didn't seem too surprised to see us when we arrived as all his attention turned back to Daroga who looked more exhausted than we felt. I don't recall what happened until later that evening when Erik popped back up to talk to "Erik's strange associates". We settled ourselves in the Persian's painfully crowded lounge, Max and I on his old divan with Erik looming over us. He refused a chair as pacing seemed to become a favorite thing to do to release his energetic thinking, besides playing music.

Daroga seemed to be Erik's personal stalker/mom for his dark eyes never left him, even when he was sitting comfortably in his own armchair. Darius couldn't be heard or seen though I knew he would be hiding in the shadows to await any orders. Finally the whole story of our arrival would be spoken, and gone over with great interest in any detail. As the only police officer there, Daroga dished up the questions. Over and over he asked us how it all happened in the beginning until my head started to swim with over detail.

"'There must be something we are missing,'" Max translated as the Persian chattered furiously to himself and to Erik who looked at his chief of police friend with quiet befuddlement. I rubbed my temples.

"Obviously," I grumped, "but we went over everything, I think! My brains can't handle this much longer!"

"'Anything helps,'" Max finished then turned towards me. "I know we think we have. But maybe we are missing something…"

She frowned and tapped her forehead with her knuckles as I shuffled downwards on the couch, wondering if it would be lady-like to lift up my skirt to scratch my thigh. Erik hadn't said a word to us but had watched everything silently. I met the eye sockets of his mask curiously, wondering what he thought about it all. He tilted his head slightly, like a kid approached with a math question but didn't look away. Maybe I didn't want to know what went on in a musical genius' head.

"Are you sure you told us everything?" he finally asked, his musical voice chiming perfectly in our ears. I got the sudden urge to want to record it, just so I could hear him speak over and over later on. Old guys are amazing when they have gorgeous voices.

Max and I gave each other a nod before doing the same to Erik and Daroga. Erik lightly tapped his mask again while the Persian frowned and muttered darkly under his breath.

"When you landed, did you see anyone?" Erik asked, for once the questioner.

I sighed and tucked my legs awkwardly underneath me as Max shrugged, trying to remember.

"There was a police guy we ran away from, I think…" I said, mimicking Erik's face-tap. "And a short guy. Right, Max?"

My friend shrugged but nodded all the same. When you're running from foreign police because you're from an entirely different time period, it makes it kind of hard to pay attention to any little details. He nodded, as if that answered all his questions and he didn't speak again. Daroga stared at his masked companion then at us, suspicion already lit in his eyes.

All at once, he spoke sharply to Erik, but not in the French Max could translate for us both. Wide-eyed we glanced between the both of them as the Persian's natural language spilled out from both of them. Mild as always, but with a slightly harsher tone, Erik shrugged off his own friend in a way I was sure he used when he liked to insult Daroga and turned back to us.

"Erik isn't allowed to keep information that would be any disadvantage your journey home," he said dryly, sending a half hidden glare towards Daroga. "So Erik will continue his questions. What did the little man sound like?"

"Does it matter?" I asked in surprise, secretly pleased he shared the same wish as I to have Max and I stay.

Max looked bewildered but did not give any sassy remark. Like always, adults usually liked her better for her manners and behavior. I can't see why she bothered, personally. I found it amusing to make a grownup act like a child to get an answer out of me.

"Rough," she remarked thoughtfully, interrupting my thoughts. "I don't think he even spoke French. I didn't understand much, but…"

She frowned suddenly as her memory came across something that she couldn't quite place. Figuratively speaking, however my head exploded.

"He was casting a _spell_!" I yelled, falling off the couch in my shock.

In less than five strides, Daroga helped me up but only to spout out words in a confused but excited manner, all in either Persian or French. My eyes almost crossed in trying to dissect what could only be more questions; what a pain to not know anything but English. Max, her mouth open in amazement started to agree loudly with my statement, jumping up as well as she could in her dress, excitement flushing her cheeks.

"We figured it out!" she nearly sang, "We have another plan!"

And with that happy thought she clapped her hands together and laughed, kindly explaining to Daroga the idea that had just passed. Erik remained calm, though I noticed one of his hands twitched with either his own excitement or irritation that we had come closer to sending us home.

"So the little man is a magician who sent for you," Erik completed, watching Daroga begin to splutter as he understood what I said through my friend.

I nodded as well as I could and barely noticed Max's huge smile and the Persian's finally satisfied look. The opening towards home was opened again. Yippee, now I could leave and go back to normal. Somehow, I don't think I was as excited as I should've been. Over the hullabaloo caused by an excited teenager and an old police officer I stared glumly at Erik. By his stance and his lack of interest in the full details, it felt comforting to know he and I shared the same feelings about it all. Briefly I wondered if I was forgiven for our poor introduction then winced. Probably not.

After a few more minutes and a quick happy skipping around the room Max calmed down enough to sit back down and look between everyone expectantly.

"All that's left is to find this man," she told Erik happily. "There aren't so many performers of magic, is there?"

Erik shrugged gracefully and stated that Daroga would know more about the outside than he. Operas couldn't haunt themselves I supposed. I meandered to the window, staring out at the cobblestone streets, ignoring the plans and animated banter of the finding of the notorious magic man. Life wasn't fair.

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**Ugh, so glad I'm back on track...sorry for the delay again!!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello, hello! Sorry for the slowness, busy week! Ugh! And weekend! My fault... Here's the update! And this wouldn't be possible without my faithful readers/ reviewers: phantomsloveangel, chi, L'Arcange, rnkmaniacal, Victorian Era Drama, shinigami109, Wendi, Othello101, Yasu Uchiha, and** **Keyklee, and FaithandLove!! Thanks so much, guys!!**

**DISCLAIMER: No Phantom is my owning yet. But it will...it will...**

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Part Fourteen:

We now had a new plan to get home. Again, whoopdee-flippin'-do. Max was exulted and didn't stop talking about how wonderful the news was or the fact that we were summoned by magic. I listened patiently and would either nod or gasp with false excitement at the right times. It felt around midnight that she and I could actually sleep, but in the kitchen Erik and Daroga went over the plans to find our magic man. I stayed awake listening to their quiet murmurings, often broke by a sharp word or sound by Daroga.

I smiled into my pillow, silently recording these memories and feelings. If I did have to go back home, I was going to make sure I wrote about everything and remembered everything that did and would happen. To the sound of Max breathing and the soft thrum of Erik's music box voice with Daroga's scratchy, throaty one I slept peacefully.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Besides the fact that this city isn't that huge, how're we going to find this guy?" I grumped the next morning, hating the wedgie I had and hating the fact I couldn't do anything about it in public. It was a cloudy day, perfect for our magician hunting crew. Remembering my manners for once I hid a yawn behind my hand. Erik, for whatever reason had gotten bit by the curiosity bug last night and again called Max to bring out her 'futuristic items' so he could prove to himself that we were real. Of course with Erik, it had to be right then so we didn't get too much sleep. When Max got her bag and groggily made her way to Erik's side, who was waiting patiently for her, she slipped our Leroux book to me with a meaningful glance.

I spent the whole night looking over the book, checking it over for anything new. Thankfully there wasn't, but reading the passages about Erik hurt, especially when I could picture him saying them now and almost hearing his voice in my head. His life was so sad. And he would die in the end. Of the worst emotion that is called Love. When I actually did sleep, I had nightmares that I didn't remember in the morning.

"Paris isn't that big, and people are only allowed to go so far," Max corrected me with a small frown. "We'll find him through strategy."

We stood next to the two blocks connecting the Rue Scribe and Boulevard Des Capucines, the Opera Garnier barely in sight through the throng of people. Quite frankly, it felt impossible that we were going about this whole city to look for one man who may or may not be able to send us home. Of course, with a method to this madness the four of us would split into two groups in hope that we would find the search more successful.

The only thing that kept me mollified is that I got paired with Erik, seeing as he would be the only one to understand me. That and Daroga was still paranoid of me. And not even only that, but Max and I couldn't even find the subways in _our_ time together. We both needed a partner that knew the city and who could communicate with each other effectively and that wouldn't be us together. Erik and I would be taking the north side of the city while Max and Daroga went south.

Due to Erik's lack of going outside too often, Daroga gave us tips on where you would usually find an entertainer or amateur artisan of some worth. I peered up at the sky, relishing the dark cloud coverage. I thought about moving here, since the sun didn't come out all the time.

"Think it's going to rain?" I asked Erik cheerily as we parted from our friends.

If his eyes moved, I think he would have rolled his eyes but instead a sigh leaked through and he said nothing. However I rolled my eyes for him and looked ahead into the crowds. Great. Antisocial, disfigured old guy with a hyper, bored albino girl. This would be an interesting field trip. Almost naturally we stayed off to the sides of the people. I tried not to look interested in the small chat of the French people on the streets or in cafes that I vaguely recognized. Both our eyes were open and peeled for any sight of the gaudy-costumed magic man. We had to describe to our watchers what the guy actually looked like in case we passed him by accident. That'd be awkward to explain to Max.

Erik took much bigger steps than I so half the time I was always slightly behind him no matter how slow he tried to be for me. I fought the comical urge to reach out and take one of Erik's bone hands in mine as we strolled, looking this way and that. The chatters and sometimes outbreak of light laughter came from all around us, but our anti-social bubble remained intact. I started taking peeks more at Erik than other people I was supposed to be scanning.

Even after a few days of being in his presence, Erik still didn't seem real. Dream-like even, though it was kind of off for a dream, what with the clothes sharing, kicking in places not so nice for guys, and bad interpretation throughout. His thoughts seemed to be on the same track for he paused only for a moment and looked down at me from his towering height. My neck would be permanently strained upwards if I kept talking to this guy.

"How is it that you knew about Erik, mademoiselle?" he asked me curiously.

I gave him a terrified look. I knew it; I knew he'd be asking me this! Not that I minded that he asked questions, it was the fact that I couldn't lie to him. And this wasn't the question I could tell the truth to. What would I say to him? 'Oh, Erik, I just read about you in a book that's all about your life! No biggie'? Heck no! I couldn't. Not with the ending, the story, the pain he'd soon go through.

I must've had a thoughts-in-process-please-hold look on my face for Erik tilted his head, a frown starting to form. He knew I had a secret and that I didn't want to share. Crêpe on a stick.

"Well?" he asked, completely stopping to stare at me. "How did you? Erik knows you could not have guessed."

I bit my lip and averted my eyes from the gold pieces of his to look down at the ground, not daring to let myself say anything. Maybe I should have gone with Daroga, understanding or no understanding. At least I couldn't understand him when he got nosy. Erik's face got more frightening as he scowled and bent over to peer directly in my face. I forced myself to look back at him and I could see where the fake nose he used began. Odd, but I notice a lot about a person whose trying to get me to spill the beans. Though staring at Erik up close was none to pretty, no offense to his genius.

"Tell Erik," he commanded in his best, or natural since I was too worried to tell, commando voice.

I fumbled with my veil, hating the fact that I could be easily pressured into telling things. But I couldn't spill! He must not know anything about how I knew or what his life will be like! Max would kill me, I'm sure. I looked at him then quickly looked down at the ground, mumbling that I didn't remember. Unfortunately, I'm a terrible liar anyways. His frown deepened but he did not move from his spot, knowing I was in no position to run. Curses on my new French shoes.

"Do not lie," he said and he folded his long arms, glaring until I felt I should have melted away already down the gutter.

I never really thought old guys were this pushy. Wait I did. That was a lie. Somehow, with Erik standing before me and waiting with the eyes of a hawk, he reminded me of my grandpa, now passed away. Gramps used to always be able to tell if I was lying and he would sit there in his favorite chair and stare at me until I spilled out the truth. Hey, I can't stand stares. They break you down after you've been standing forever and a day. I was really feeling that sort of pressure right then, I'll tell you that now! That and I really missed Gramps.

"Emma?" Erik's voice brought me back to reality.

Unconsciously I flinched away from him. He used my name! That seemed like a bad thing. Usually that meant I was in trouble because his normal addressing form was always 'mademoiselle' for either me or Max. I don't think he could really punish me, but the usage of my name shook me up. What would he do if I really was in trouble with him? Right after that, a Punjab came to mind. Not a comforting or supporting thought.

"It's because I'm magic!" I blurted out finally, a smile spreading on my face.

Inside I was groaning at myself. Again with the unconscious smiles, I would really have to stop that. But lucky for me my random answer caught Erik off guard and he stood straight up again. He didn't believe me of course, but I could see that he didn't think he'd be able to get a sensible answer out of me. Which he probably wouldn't. I knew that even for Erik and even with what he already believed with us, I don't think he would believe that his life story would become a famous mystery novel.

Who would, too?

With that in my mind we started forward again and I passed my eyes afresh over the crowd. Nothing, yet and my feet were killing m-wait. I stopped, causing Erik to stamp on his breaks, metaphorically speaking before he ran over me.

"Mademoiselle?" he asked, still irritated from his failure earlier.

I didn't respond for my gaze was stuck on a flashing, sparkling absolutely ridiculous red suit. The magic man! I saw him. He didn't see me. I found him! Quickly I spun and grabbed Erik's bone hand, pointing into the crowd with a gasp both from the excitement of my find and also how utterly clammy Erik's hands were. At least they weren't hot and sweaty, I reasoned.

"That's him!" I said, smiling.

Crêpe on a stick.

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**I love typing the squiggles over words. It's so fun. Love it, hate it? Lemme know? **


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for the wait! Busy week and for whatever the reason, sleep won't come to me anymore. Sheesh. But I want to thank you all for reading and indeed a HUGE thanks to my faithful readers: phantomsloveangel, chi, L'Arcange, rnkmaniacal, Victorian Era Drama, shinigami109, Wendi, Othello101, Yasu Uchiha, and** **Keyklee, FaithandLove, mejq, and Phantom Shadowwalker! Thanks guys!**

**DISCLAIMER: No Phantom ownage to the Haleybob. (tear)**

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Part Fifteen:

Quick as a tiger spotting its prey, Erik turned towards the direction I pointed and somehow managed to gracefully bolt down the road to reach our gaudily dressed fiend and still made it look like a normal, over sped stroll. I, being much clumsier, scampered after him cursing and tripping over that ridiculous dress of mine. Our magician was shorter than I remembered and his features thrown into eyesight perfectly instead of being partly hidden by shadows in a tent or from being far away. His large eyes got positively larger with fright as he stared up and up at the corpse of a man who was talking to him. His costume, I noted as I sidled up closer to Erik, was a little bit different from the last one. Not as much yellow and blue as there was red though it still sparkled and shined ridiculously even in that grey, gloriously gloomy day.

He then glared and stamped his feet at Erik, whose tone was cool and relaxed as always though sounding a bit persuading into something. I was lost on the whole conversation and stood off to the side to study this man while they discussed. Nothing about him screamed amazing-man-who-transports-girls-to-the-past. His hair was messier than the first time and his costume did seem a little drab despite it being new on him. Suddenly his large eyes caught mine and he let out a startled shriek, jumping a foot away from me. I flinched away from the noise and made a face at him.

"Yes, yes," I said, rolling my eyes, "it's the girl that fell on top of you. _Gutentag_ to you, too!"

It seemed that he had an idea about what I just said but he didn't respond save making a funny face at my poor German skills; maybe my accent was off. Erik glanced between us and started talking faster to the funny man whose drawn face steadily turned from red, to purple, then pale as he eyed me nervously. I glared back at him as politely as I could, resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Erik suddenly turned to me with a triumphant glint in the hidden eyeballs.

"Find mademoiselle Megan and Daroga while I chat with our magician," he commanded me. "He will help you home. Go now!"

O-o-o-o-o-o

"His name is Yves," Erik explained to Max and me over Daroga's kitchen table. We were all squeezed in together and indeed even our buddy Yves was with us, looking like he was about to fain since he was surrounded by a corpse, a Persian with an 'evil eye', and two girls from the future that fell on him. But despite that, I only sort of felt sorry for him for having such, in my opinion, a weird name. After I found Daroga and Max in a local café questioning an amateur painter, it had been a snap to gather us all back together.

Max was thrilled about this all, I could tell. The way her eyes sparked and the fact that she ran faster than an Olympic medal winner could in a marathon after I told her we found Yves kind of gave me the tip. She had nearly barreled over the little man in her eagerness to explain the situation. Poor guy looked as though she was a beautiful fallen angel come to help the devil with his removal of his existence the way he flinched back. Can't say I blame him, I'd probably be worried too if I was talking to two people who fell out of a wall onto me. Probably be scared they'd do it again.

"…and he has promised to help you back in whatever means necessary," Erik continued, snapping me back to reality.

I nodded and looked back at the magician. Yves didn't seem like he would be in any position to help, but with Daroga's powerful hand on his shoulder to prevent the man from jumping it seemed also that he didn't have a choice. I smirked to myself, shuffling in my chair. The kitchen felt like a prison hold and our magician was the captive. Daroga played his part as bad cop and scary guard of the door well as he stood behind the captive while Erik the calm, composed interrogator sat across from him with Max and me on either side. Well, it would've felt more like a prison if the dark green wall paper and few wood cabinets weren't there along with a few pictures and a lovely window.

Without my friend next to me, Erik became my translator and indeed Max the interrogator more and more as the morning progressed. Apparently Yves was only trying out a spell he found in one of his family's old books, he didn't actually believe in magic or that that would have worked. But, being out of money, anything that could make a few people gape and leave some francs the spell was taken into consideration and finally done. That's where we came in.

I bit my nails nervously, keeping myself from tapping Erik's shoulders to find out what was happening every ten minutes but the time kept going on and on. Yves shrugged, blubbered, and complained in different moods depending on his interrogator, pulling at his costume's neck in some sort of nervous. Another update from Erik and now was known that he wasn't even supposed to have that book he used. A man had tried to stop him, but Yves had gotten away with stealing it (after giving Erik a five minute rant about how it was really his) and being able to perform it, had gotten the fright of his life thanks to us.

Max's face wrinkled in confusion and something went on and the poor man pulled out the skimpiest looking book I had ever seen. It might've looked more mystical with glitter or some jewels or something but as he set it out on the table for us with a scowl, the plain, ragged-edged book state. It wasn't very thick and the cover was so dirty it was impossible to tell the original color or indeed even the cover. Daroga reached over Yves' shoulder and picked it up to examine cautiously.

"Can he get us home or not?" I whispered to Max, who leaned back as Yves gave tedious details on how the scrappy piece of lettering was his: again.

"He can, probably," she whispered back, ignoring Erik's sideways glance, "it's just the question of 'will' he."

I tugged on my veil thoughtfully.

"Can't we just threaten him and get it over with? It saves us a lot of time." I reasoned.

Max rolled her eyes but shook her head much to my dismay. Lovely. I hated not knowing what was being said right in front of me! It all reminded me of that wrong number phone call where a Mexican lady called me 'stupida' because I hadn't the foggiest of what she was saying. I hate that. And not neccessarily the part of being called "stupida".

I glanced up at Daroga exasperated but he didn't pay attention to me any more than Erik or Max so that gave me a chance to save him in my visual memory bank. Tall, old, pretty fit, close-cropped dark hair…all in the book almost to the last detail. The one thing, however, that I couldn't wrap my head around was his eyes. Brilliant jade green, just like Leroux described. Why didn't I believe it or notice before? I guess I never suspected it to be honest with myself. But now with the living one right in front of me, it wasn't something I could deny anymore.

He caught me looking at him must to my dull embarrassment and before he could open his mouth I crossed my eyes at him and poked Max in the side.

"Now what's happening?" I moaned while Daroga eyed me warily before turning his attention to Erik who was listening attentively to Yves.

Max beamed at me so brightly it was like looking at the sun. I almost shielded my eyes from the intensity.

"He said he's going to do the spell again for us, in secret!" she said quickly, "Apparently he doesn't want the man to find him so it'll all be very hush-hush."

I started, grabbing her hand in alarm.

"When?" I demanded, my eyes growing wide.

"Probably tomorrow," Max said, looking at me curiously, "It's the soonest we can get home."

My heart pounded and a looked over at the three men and around the dark kitchen, the light dribbling in making no difference. To leave now…I didn't feel that I could and my head felt light. No one would believe us once we got back, how could I prove it real to myself? To remember it so crystal clear for forever I couldn't just up and leave this place so soon. Okay, so it had been longer but… I couldn't explain my need to stay.

"But I don't want to go home!" I blurted out, causing everyone to look at me strangely. "Not yet, Max! Not yet!"

Erik and Daroga exchanged looks and without another word, escorted Yves out of the kitchen until we heard farewells and veiled threats before the door closed. Max looked at me resignedly the whole time, not even glancing up when Erik bid us goodbye, in order to follow our magic man in case he tried to bolt. I fixed my eyes down at my hands, knowing I would be getting the Max-logic, where she would explain the need to get home. And she would be right and I would go with it.

"Emma, I know you want to stay," she sighed, "but we don't know what's happening at home. Think of your family! Mine! We have to get back and let them know we're not dead or anything. We can't stay here forever and Daroga and Erik can't have us here any longer. And you know exactly why. You can't be selfish."

I nodded, not daring to open my mouth. I knew she was right. I hate it when she's right about things like this. Max would be a good counselor or some sort of legal persuader because she got right down to the bit where whatever the problem was most crucial. I loved my family, and I didn't really want them to think I was dead.

"I hate it when you're right," I said, smiling meekly at her.

She squeezed my hand and got up, leaving me in the kitchen where Darius appeared to make tea for the master and possibly for us, too since Erik never drank or ate around people. I sighed and plopped my head on the table.

"I hate it when she's right, Darius," I complained to him as he opened his tea kettle.

He ignored me.

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**Good 'ol Darius. **

**Love it? Hate it? Lemme know!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Late, being banned from computer, and sneaking on for your guys' updated chapter pleasures. Thank you, thank you. BIG THANK YOU to all the readers out there and reviewers: phantomsloveangel, chi, L'Arcange, rnkmaniacal, Victorian Era Drama, shinigami109, Wendi, Othello101, Yasu Uchiha, and** **Keyklee, FaithandLove, mejq, Phantom Shadowwalker, and Dark.Angel's.Muse!! You guys are amazing, thank you!**

**DISCLAIMER:** **Oddball ideas are mine, however the Phantom characters are..not...**

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**Part Sixteen:**

The next day. The next day I was cursing the light that was filtering through the dark draping around that bloody living room window. The normal layer of dark clouds made the light seem all the more dreary and it matched my mood considerably. In vain, I covered my head with the pillow (which I stole from Daroga's room before I went to bed last night) trying to block out the fact that today we would be sent home. For good. My stomach twisted uncomfortably and I thought vaguely of stealing something from the two men that had made my life so awesomely strange.

I chanced a glance at the couch where Max slept and gave a small sigh of relief to see she still was out like a broken light bulb in a socket full of peanut butter. Slowly I sat up and pulled off the small layer of blankets, peering around blearily as I had slept with my contacts in making my eyes all gummy and gross.

Daroga's house was kind of creepy when no one was awake. As if I could sense no one was moving around, not even Darius with that weird obsession of never talking except to his master. I didn't want to go back to sleep so snuggling under the blanket I owned wasn't going to happen. Rather groggily I gathered my junk and meandered down the small hallway, glancing at the sparse French paintings that hung on the walls. Without any light besides what leaked in from the living room, the paintings were hard to make out and I didn't pause as I normally would with paintings to try to depict them or guess how long it would take me to paint.

I dressed in the bathroom, double checking that no one was around and making sure the door was locked with methodic routine. Flashing any of the people here wasn't really on the top of my to-do list even with my lack of pride. Feeling a sense of de-ja-vu I made another terrible face in the mirror, my pinkish eyes glaring back at me. The only thing that tickled my fancy is the fact the dresses we received with Erik were definitely going with us back home. If I ever tired of them (which, I say now is impossible) their prices would be skyscraper high on EBay due to their "fantastic condition".

I slipped back out, wincing at the squeaky bathroom door. Fortunately no one burst out or woke up by the startlingly noisy sound. I was about to breath out a sigh of relieve when suddenly, the door let out a loud but not rude knock. The sigh I was going to exhale immediately dived back into my throat, chocking me as I stumbled to the door clutching my neck. Wheezing like an old spinster woman, I quickly grabbed the doorknob and threw it open before the person could knock again.

"E-Erik!" I coughed, for indeed it was he, "hey, didn't expec- hang on," I coughed harder for a minute or two before regaining proper intake of oxygen. "Didn't expect you so early!"

I beamed through my watering eyes as he looked down at me through his mask in mild surprise and, to my own amazement, mild concern. But it did not last long and he was quick to bow slightly and greet me as I rallied him in. I took his cloak with glee and hung onto it, feeling the expensive material instead of hanging it up as he turned to me.

"Forgive me for the intrusion," he said smoothly, the first person talk seeping in his speech as it sometimes does, "I did not keep track of the time, you see. Erik hopes he has not disturbed anyone, though…" he observed my less than tidy appearance dryly, "It seems to not make a difference seeing as you answered the door in due time, either way."

My pale cheeks warmed slightly but I overlooked his innuendo about my lack of fashion and I grudgingly but dutifully hung up his cloak under the amused yet slightly imperious gaze of his gold cat eyes.

"Want anything?" I offered, feeling that taking up the position of hostess since Daroga and Darius were seemingly still out cold.

Instantly Erik became the gentleman guest he normally was, declining anything politely but making his way to the kitchen. A shuffling behind me made me turn around and nearly squeal again in shock as Darius floated by me. Stupid, ghost walker men. They would be the death of me, I am quite sure. Grumbling this sort of thing to myself I stomped after them and actually did shriek when Max's rumple-haired head came into view around the corner.

She bade me a _gutentag_ in that seemingly flawless German accent she acquired from watching German musicals, a smirk finding its way to her face as I burned with embarrassment. My free time had ended there, no way was Max going back to sleep. Not even a minute after she was all prepared did Daroga wake, having already dressed and prayed. (He was indeed Muslim as I found out a day or so ago when I nearly walked into Darius' and his prayer thing, but I don't know if they did it as often as they would in Persia).

I was twitchy and grumpy throughout our breakfasting and found myself running a nervous hand over a strand of hair. Max was too excited to either eat or pay attention to me. I felt decidedly peculiar myself as I glanced at everything with a lump in my throat, more than once avoiding Erik's curious gaze. Oh! Shakespeare knew what he was saying when he wrote, "parting is such sweet sorrow."!

As we left, Darius staying behind with that same emotionless expression I walked the slowest and received several scoldings from Max for dallying on the way to the Opera We would be meeting Yves there. I liked my veil more that morning for I used it for cover-up when I stuck my tongue out at my friend's turned back. Everyone seemed either in a good mood or in deep thought. Daroga, I observed with annoyance, felt like the most cheerful besides Max. Probably hoping that everything would go back to normal.

The Opera never looked more beautiful than that day and as everyone turned to head for the extravagant entrance I startled myself in remembering it was all Erik's doing, his mysterious work. I hungrily took in its current looks, to compare with the future scene that we would soon see. I think the people around us thought I was some psycho looking like I was going to eat up the building in one, greedy swallow with hideous jaws. Or I just might have been going crazy…_er_.

"Emma!" Max called to me cheerily, "this way, _si__ vou plait_."

I tore myself away to follow and it seemed all too soon as we met up with Yves at the dancers' lounge, Erik gone away to the storage room beforehand to scare anyone around it away. Our magic man seemed more tense than usual and went about grumbling to himself under his breath, his eyes darting back and forth while he shrank from Daroga's powerful build and stare. Even if Daroga didn't like being a chief of police, there was no doubt that he did the job well.

Yves looked odder than his usual self today for he had abandoned his gaudy performance costume for the traditional morning garb of most Opera-going gentlemen. His suit fit him oddly and the nonexistence of any glitter on his mousy face or person struck me as supernatural. A heavy, rough looking bag sat next to his little feet and he picked up to clutch it to himself protectively when I inched near, curious of its contents. The little man kept glancing towards the door as if he was waiting for someone to pounce on him and shifted around the bag so much, it caused Max to tell him off sharply so at once he ceased with a little whimper at the tone of her voice.

"We're ready," Max told me finally once Daroga spoke to the magician.

I nodded and soon, far too soon we found ourselves in the blasted storage room watching Yves pull candles and jars and other odd things from his bag, muttering to him as he arranged it all before the wall which we had fallen into so long ago. Erik and Daroga kept watch over his progress, commenting to each other and casting glances back at their "future girls." Meanwhile Max guarded the door, making sure no one entered seeing as Yves was still wary of the man he told us of earlier.

I had plopped myself on a stack of old coats, cupping my head glumly in my hands. It was so early in the morning that we didn't get to run into many people as I had wanted to delay our return. Idly I fiddled with our backpacks, hastily grabbed before leaving Daroga's place. It was sort of funny that we still had everything and Erik's slight of hand had not dared to dip into these treasure sacks to steal anything. Or maybe he looked at everything already and just returned them.

The candles were lit and Yves stood back up and, darting around Daroga nervously motioned for me and Max to approach. This was our time. We were really, truly going home…and this time there wasn't going to be any mishaps. We stood by the wall but we didn't touch it yet as Yves had to circle us once with a clipping of some sort of plant, chanting in no human language. I held in a gasp, it was the same chanting we had heard behind the wall!

"So this is it," I remarked to Erik and Daroga, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "This is goodbye, with a dancing ceremony and candles to match! What class!"

Max rolled her eyes, moving closer to me as Yves almost hit her own pack, oblivious to her in his chanting dance. Erik nodded slowly, his eyes unreadable as well as invisible in the dim lighting of the room. I wrinkled my nose.

"What? No goodbye handshake, no gift?" I said in mock abashment.

"What is that dress you're wearing?" Max pointed out in her maddening logic.

I sniffed while Daroga looked blearily at us and Erik crossed his arms in either amusement or peevishness.

"Still," I muttered, holding back a few tears. "…A handshake, then? It's customary."

Max's reply was a negative, they might get caught in with us and I felt a wretched longing fill me. I gazed at the two men steadily, however, already refusing to cry. What good would it do, to cry?

"Well, it was nice knowing you two, anyways." I said with an indifference I didn't feel.

Erik nodded again and a sudden intake of breath from the Persian and Max made me look behind me. Light, bright white light was forming in a circle on the wall and in front of Yves who was chanting all the louder. So magic was possible, huh. I felt no thrill, though and only stared into the luminescent glow, not bright enough to make us shield our eyes.

"This is it, Em!" Max shouted as a drumming began in our ears deafeningly. "This is it! Let's go in on three! Ready?"

"No!" I shouted, suddenly afraid as my friend found my hand.

"One!"

"I can't do this…"

"Two!" she shouted confidently, her hand a vise for mine.

A shout of surprise came from behind us and a noise like a door being banged open smashed through the air. Still Max held on to me and I couldn't turn my head for the portal or whatever it was felt as if it was pulling us forward. Yves' terrified hollers became known but a wind had picked up along with the drums. Daroga was shouting, too but nothing he said was making sense. I was deaf and yet I heard everything! I was blind but I saw everything! Faintly, so faintly even though it came from Max right beside me I heard her say:

"THREE!"

Out of no where something was thrust against us and we found ourselves falling…falling into the wall where the brightness gleamed and we saw nothing but white. We didn't hit brick or stone, but kept falling. We were consumed by the magic, the drums, and the faint echo of Yves' chanting that filled our ears. I gave out a shout to match the ones we were quickly leaving behind though mine wasn't words of any sort.

Homeward bound were we… whether we wanted to or not.

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	17. Chapter 17

**Many thanks and blessings on you all! Don't have time to do much besides update...Fasha (dad) will be up here to wonder what I'm doing.... Thanks to all my readers!! I'll add your names later but just know I couldn't do any of this without your death threats and other loving messages! GO AND READ!!**

**DICLAIMER: PHANTOM NOT MINE.**

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Part Seventeen:

It felt like time had stopped as we fell through nothing but pure light, I couldn't even see Max beside me, even though I could feel her iron hand grip on my own. I was only too glad this wasn't any cornier since with the absence of glitter. I think I was screaming, but I couldn't tell. Screaming may not be the right word for it, though. Think of it as noises of pure thrill and adrenaline because boy, were we getting it!

Suddenly the ends to where our eyes were straining started to darken and form more recognizable shapes. I would have gasped if it was possible, but our white, time warp prism made all outside noise impossible. There wasn't even a wind in our ears! Just nothingness and endless, endless white beyond what our sight would allow. Fear wasn't with me, though. The whole experience was rather detached. Slowly, I started to feel Max's hand and the dark shapes took the appearance of the room. Now I could hear my heart thudding so loud and I blinked rapidly, as if that alone would make everything right again.

Suddenly my knees buckled—had I even left the ground?—and I collapsed on top of them, stone flooring smacking into them with painful reality. I opened my mouth to curse and would have moved up from the ground when something…something heavy fell on top of me! A muffled shout of surprise came from that something all big and black, but even then I didn't have time to question it for something else fell on top of _that_! Like someone just wanted to play dog-pile on the Emma and I wasn't even told! I couldn't breathe as you could imagine and vainly I tried turning my head.

"Ow!" I heard Max call out from somewhere to the side of me and another thump told me that she was part of her own dog-pile. Vaguely I was jealous that her mound was smaller and most certainly lighter than mine. Before we could utter another cry of annoyance or pain a scuffle occurred where all the weight was shifted violently on top of me—as again I crossed my eyes in utter bewilderment—and the shouts we had heard before leaving filled the air again. Men's voices. What was going on?

"I'm getting up right now!" I shouted angrily and with all my strength I pushed against the floor and my lump of weight flopped to the side, making even more noises of protest. Something, a shoe perhaps, trod heavily on my fingers and I squealed loudly, clinging to the injured phalanges but then the imposter disappeared out of the small room to which we had returned. I didn't see what or who it was at all.

"Oh, no!" I heard Max say in a deathly voice of doom, "Oh no, oh no, _oh no_!"

More flapping and more incoherent yells ensued before I got to my feet and looked about. And I heard the voices I thought we would never hear again.

"Mademoiselle, it will do you no good if you keep repeating yourself!" Erik said curtly, and with the majesty and dignity of a lion rising to its feet, he stood from where he had once fallen on top of me with that superior air he always had, regardless of the situation.

I felt all air that I tried sucking into my lungs leave and I stared with eyes probably the size of saucers. I guess I was mouthing uselessly too, for he turned to me and he froze me in place with that single, burning glance.

"Do not mouth at me like a dying codfish, mademoiselle," he said irritably, "it does not become you."

I nodded faintly while shutting my jaws and I looked towards Max to see if she was seeing who I was seeing. However I received yet another shock! Daroga, our grumpy Persian friend, and she were staring at one another like the other was a ghost. There was no doubting in the horror both shared at seeing each other again. His olive complexion greened as he stared at my friend and at once his eyes found Erik and he exploded into curses and long strings of Persian to which Erik ignored. Max backed up against the wall, pressing a hand to her mouth, her own face tinged with green. I came to her in concern but she motioned me away; she wasn't feeling or looking well at all and if she lost her breakfast, it wouldn't be getting all over me at least.

I turned to the two men before us trance-like and stared at them with amazement. Erik and Daroga together with us, again! We weren't separated! Joy tingled briefly through me and silently I thanked God for making me the lucky one this time. Then, a thought shocked me like lightning. What if we didn't actually get back? What if the spell never worked and it was all just a hoax and we were actually still in their own time? I felt myself bending to grab my rather squashed bag and I took out Max's phone and turned it on systematically. She had to put it in my bag since hers was overflowing with our clothes before we left Daroga's flat. Her stuff was transferred to mine, so that is why I held her phone in my hand.

The cheerful opening noise barely fazed me and slowly I clicked my way to her address book, selected her French horn section leader, Ross, and pressed call. I put it to my ear and yelped when it rang. What a weird sound! I hadn't heard it in so long, it felt so foreign! That sound alone should have convinced me were back but still I listened to the ringing. I was so dazed that I positively jumped two feet high in fright when the crackled voice of Ross made its way into my brain, translating it as a regular, English speaking, band attending American.

"Hello?" he asked, sounding like any ordinary human being picking up their phone.

I made a choking noise and my throat closed I was so amazed. He didn't act as if we had been gone for weeks. No shouts of surprise, no tears of joy in the connection, no demands as to where we were. Just…a normal, everyday answer to a phone call made by anyone.

"Max?" he said, now sounding puzzled. "You there?"

"N-no," I managed to stammer out. I cleared my throat loudly then regained my normal voice and spunk. "This is just Emma! Sorry, Ross. I'm borrowing this because my phone's dead. Er, I was just wondering…what's today?"

I crossed my fingers. If I was right, I'd be getting money and a relief beyond comparison. However, Ross wasn't amused with my question.

"_C'est quell jour aujourd'hui?_" he said dryly in the French he had practiced for five months before the trip to Paris. "Are you seriously asking me that, Emma?"

"If… that was the question for the day, yeah," I replied, laughing nervously.

He made a disgusted noise which immediately brought me back to my position of being a humble sophomore, asking the oddness out of a senior. And a pretty grumpy senior, at that.

"_Aujourd'hui c'est mecredi, stupide_!" he said rudely, and he hung up.

Mecredi was one of the seven days of the week I could remember from French class. That's only because we repeated them every day before the main lesson, chiming it in unison to our eccentric teacher. Mecredi…Wednesday. It was still Wednesday, the second day of being in Paris from the plane! Nothing had changed! I was right! …Crap!

I turned my attention back to Max who had regained her regular posture and complexion and was looking at me when I put her phone back in my bag. Erik and Daroga now had stopped arguing and both looked curiously at me as well. I swallowed hard, beamed, and spreading out my arms wide to receive them I said with the voice of an American tour guide usually found on some cheesy tour video:

"Welcome to the 21st century!"

I had no idea how we were going to explain this one to our instructors.

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**Awkwaaaaard! Love it, hate it? Tell me what you think! Hope I surprised some of you! ;D**


	18. Chapter 18

**WOW it's been awhile! I am so sorry, it's not really my fault.... okay, yeah it is BUT I've been banned from the computer for...well...goodness knows how long. Till my 'F' in a class gets back up. PX So yes! I am updating while 'working' so sorry I'm skipping over the thank yous. Thank you, readers, for your patience and reviews and sympathy and threats. 3**

**DISCLAIMER: Story MINE Phantom of the Opera...not so much**

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Part Eighteen:

Max stared at me then grabbed at her phone which I all too gladly let go. She flicked it open and a confused look filled her face. I started to giggle (an annoying habit I picked up from a more girlish friend of mine) and grin so hard I think I bothered Daroga and Erik more than normal. You think they'd be used to me…but then I didn't really let myself be myself fully, just in case they took it as a hint to drop me off to the nutty house.

Even when the Persian didn't dare look about him, Erik's immobile eyes searched all around him with mere curiosity instead of fear. I knew I liked Erik, he was daring. I clasped my hands together and looked about with him with all the giddiness of a hyperactive child. I guess time traveling didn't make people tired: it hyped them up. The room was extremely different in contents than what we left. Instead of the piles of costumes barely anything was in here, just like last time.

The dust, however, seemed to have accumulated. A tingle ran down my spine as I watched Erik's dangerously thin hands go over the wall we came out of, a puzzled air about him. The skeleton! His! Frantically I skipped over and stared at the wall. The glass box was gone as well as the dead man inside it.

"Oh dear," I murmured, pressing a hand to the plain white wall to steady myself.

Thankfully our phantom friend put my small exclamation to his being there for he looked down at me.

"Erik did not think your travel portal would open so large," he said in a way of explanation, "It caused quite a bit of turmoil."

Daroga snapped something at him, obviously not pleased at what was happening. As he nearly shouted at Erik, his trembling hand made a sign to himself and he clutched his heart. Poor guy. If I remembered and if I was right, he was older than even Erik and not quite up to surprising things as his mysterious friend. He wasn't very calm in settings he wasn't in control of or comfortable with. Can't say I blame him.

"Oh, yes," Erik continued, his gold eyes flashing, "we did not choose to follow —though Erik was tempted, very tempted— either of you, but Erik believes we were shoved, to put it blandly."

"Shoved you?" Max echoed, coming back to her senses and shoving her betraying phone in the side of pocket of her backpack, free to observe them with her normal calculating frown.

He nodded solemnly. I nodded to myself as well and tapped my elbow, something I did when thinking.

"Now that he mentions it," I said slowly, "someone stepped on my fingers when we all fell over each other." I motioned my hand to both old men, "But afterwards, both Erik and Daroga had to get up as well. They didn't squash me."

"Perhaps Yves…?" Max trailed off but Erik shook his head, sending a glare towards Daroga to shut him up to which the Persian amazingly complied.

"No. The magician stayed, Erik saw him run out of the room." Erik replied. "He left his book, however."

He drew it out of the folds of his cloak as proof. The plot thickened. Curiously Max and I drew near to him to stare at the ratty thing. Yves, if we could know anything about him, wouldn't willingly give this up or at least not without a fight. It was strange that he would have abandoned this thing. And now he was most certainly back in the time we just left and…well, Erik and Daroga were obviously here with us. This was becoming a problem in my mind.

"We're going to have to get out of these clothes," I mused, pulling at my veil. "And, no offense, but you and Daroga got to change, too. Hope you got money."

I laughed nervously while Max rolled her eyes and both men stared.

"We still have our stuff," she noted as she picked up her backpack to rifle through it. "So we can change real quickly before anyone comes and finds us."

"Smart move." I complimented.

I threw a glance at Erik and the Persian who still stared at us, at a loss of what to do. I came over and started to push on Daroga's arm, to move him towards the door.

"Well," I said as he protested and tried to brush me away, "you two just wait outside the door and make sure no one comes in."

Erik turned back to me with one of those looks that says he would do nothing of the sort so I scowled and added, "Don't go anywhere, at least. We can't help if you disappear on us."

I shut the door and turned to pull out my jeans out of the backpack. Max was already half-changed and she even had a little brush to pull through her long hair.

"I don't know how we're going to hide them," she told me while she helped untie my corset. "We don't even have money to pay for their clothes!"

I sucked in a deep breath of dusty air, blessing my time period for the loss of corsets and squashed ribcages.

"I only got fifty dollars from my folks," I said with dismay, reflecting on the content my pocket money. "I don't think that's enough for even some of the socks they sell!"

Max shook her head and turned away while I changed quickly. What were we to do with Erik and Daroga? None of us were magical in the real sense (though with Erik you could never ever tell), and all the words in the book were no better than scribbles! They had their own support when we ran into them, but now with it switched around it was all we could do to just decide on where to put them!

"Could we take them to the hotel…?" I led off as I pulled on my shirt. "We could take them through the stairs so no one sees them."

"Too risky," Max demoted quickly. "Do you know how bad it would be if Mr. Party or Mr. Perini caught us with them?"

I tried to picture it in my head, the possible looks, questions, stares…I couldn't put it to the right scale of _bad_. I shook my head as my imagination drew me to the vision of Mr. Perini wrapping my clarinet around my neck and stuffing Max's head in her French horn: too ordinary, our teacher was more original than that. Surely Mr. Party would be if Perini failed us, the looks he sometimes had to give us could stun a rhino. It would explain the twitching the trombones got, anyways.

"Maybe a hotel," Max's musing broke through my morbid images.

Fully dressed, we exited the room but not before I threw another glance over my shoulder to where the glass box should have been. A chill went up my spine as I stared a moment at the empty spot and I hurried out, blessing my jeans and t-shirt for quick, trip-free movements. Max was still muttering to herself about plans for our companions as she followed behind me.

Amazingly Erik and Daroga had stayed, though our masked friend gave us quite a scare when we didn't see him at first. The phantom in him still was going strong apparently. Found the first shadow he could find to lurk in, the lunatic.

"Can you keep, y'know, in the open?" I asked him once he made himself visible, one of my hands clutching the general location of my heart.

I was going to then say 'like a normal person', but luckily I remembered that that was stupid. His eyes flickered behind the mask from the gloom but he didn't answer, reminding me of the way an uncle of mine, Jack would act when he kept a secret from me, the way his eyes would sparkle with good humor as I fussed over him to make him tell me. Inwardly I smiled, I loved that uncle; missed him, too. The word hit me. I stopped. Uncle?

"Uncle…" I voiced, trying it on my lips.

"What?" Max snapped, irritated with her predicament and not as much as me.

Instead of answering her I leaned in and pointed to Erik and Daroga with excitement.

"Uncle Erik and Uncle Daroga!" I nearly shouted in their faces. "They could be uncles!"

Daroga flinched back at all the noise I was making and Erik looked positively bewildered as I clapped my hands together, pleased with my spark of genius. Max stared at me, incomprehension filling her face. I came to her to explain, unable to keep my giddiness out.

"Don't you see, Max?" I asked though she clearly didn't. "It'd be easy to just say they're family! No one would be the wiser since our folks aren't here! We can sneak them in!"

Understanding dawned in her face as Erik and the Persian looked back and forth between us, still at a loss though one more than the other due to language failure. My friend started to nod and I was about to smile until her face became logical and I stopped and sighed. Like most of my plans, they had to go through Max before they could ever take effect. It kept things in reality, you see.

"Alright, they can be our uncles," she agreed slowly, "but what about the fact they look nothing like us?"

"No one looks like Erik." I said wryly, looking at the phantom man whose eyes glowered in his shadow patch. "No offense, of course…please don't hurt me."

I think he rolled his eyes again but at least no violence came. I wondered how he would get through security of most places. I don't think the public was used to checking for Punjab lassos. But then, this was modern day Paris, who could tell what people checked for anymore?

Max nodded again, putting my scattered logic into place.

"Plus," I added, pointing at myself with a grin, "albino powers!"

To my amusement and dismay Erik was relating this conversation to the Persian and once hearing that particular line, he recoiled from me like a child from a plate of Brussels sprouts.

"Not literally!" I said impatiently as Erik seemed to smirk at his friend. "But, albinos can be related to almost anyone in anybody's mind. So even Daroga would be okay."

Max shook her head.

"No, it's easier for him to be mine so people don't get suspicious," she replied, "I have plenty of relatives overseas."

"You're so smart when you talk like that," I said admiringly.

"Thanks."

I turned back to Erik, ignoring Daroga who seemed to have found a need to try to ward me off with something around his neck. I spread my hands out to him.

"What do you think, Erik?" I asked, "Be my uncle…?"

He stared for a moment, looked at Max, then at Daroga, then finally back to me. It was not even a minute before he hesitated, then nodded.

"Sweet," I smiled.

I now was related to the Phantom of the Opera.

…

Jealous, jealous, jealous?

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**THERE!**

**Love it, hate it? Lemme know!**


	19. Chapter 19

**I'm not going to even try to make an apology suitable enough to you, my faithful readers. DX 'Cause there isn't one that explains my guilt. SO, here's an update! A real update! Aaaaand thank you so much, each of you for reviewing and reading...it helps a lot!**

**DISCLAIMER:** **Squidward Tenticles has the best fancy restaurant in Bikini Bottom....and he does not suck eggs.**

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**Part Nineteen:**

It was getting them out of the Opera House that proved to be the current trouble of the interesting predicament we were in. What with two men of the past here with us in the future, how would we know what we might've caused? All movies and books say that whenever you remove people or things or even air from their time, everything is thrown off balance and you're better off dead. Not comforting, let me tell you. My only comfort was that Erik and Daroga weren't well known to begin with. Nothing extreme would happen (save for the whole Christine thing) after their prime in life! Heck, one even became a social hermit _before_ we dropped in. So perhaps we would be alright so long as we got them home sometime…

I half expected Erik to resist leaving his Opera, to go about and try to discern what happened within before going out. However, Erik followed quite willingly (though I must say now, it was annoying listening to Daroga ramble angrily throughout the whole thing) and looked all around him in wonder, often pausing in front of a door or so in a quandary pose to where someone, mostly me would have to grab him and pull him on. The group we had joined what seemed centuries ago had not been that far off. So, getting around them would be tricky. We followed close enough to hear them but not enough to be seen, listening to good old Stork-boy tour guide snob prattle away about the architecture. I wondered briefly if Erik thought it odd to hear about his own building designs that he did himself. If anything, it must've been an ego boost. Just what he needed, right? Right…

Max was solemn as ever but was most apt in getting around without trouble that we all naturally fell behind in following her. This was quite a feat concerning who we were: a pretty girl, a Persian man, a masked freak, and an albino kid. Daroga and Erik both stuck out pretty strangely with the old-fashioned clothes and of course, Erik's mask. That would be a problem, that mask. I peered at it quizzically as we hid behind a corner a bit away from the group, thinking of an excuse we could use for it.

"What is it?" he asked me rather coldly, his face turning down to look at me.

I averted my eyes post-haste, the oddity of the subject and Erik's you-die-now look keeping me from speaking.

"Just…wondering how we'll dress you," I whispered brightly, giving him a toothy grin. "We get to modern out your fashion sense after all!"

He continued to look at me steadily and I almost, almost blurted "and I was wondering about an excuse for your face" but Max grabbed my hand and pulled me along to the next room, Daroga and Erik in hot pursuit. All and all, I was still a little thrown by how normal everything was again. The electric lights with no cords, the cell phone buzzes of received text, guards hidden with walky-talkies and beating sticks…all so natural I felt that I didn't belong, despite my obviously-American-albino-freak-pretending-to-be-a-Canadian-albino-freak-but-failing tourist aura.

But despite my feelings, I doubt that my confusion could ever match Daroga's. As we hustled and scuttled along, he mumbled to himself, wrung his hands together nervously, and frequently stared around him with a face of horrified illness, his smooth olive complexion tinged nastily with green. I really hoped he wasn't going to puke on the carpets, they were still very pretty.

Thankfully, Erik talked to him quietly, keeping the Persian from overly panicking, I'd like to think. The easy flow or whatever language he spoke must have soothed Daroga's nerves and kept him from screaming, I'd also like to think. What a blessing Erik was! Max pinched me to bring me back to reality and I yelped, immediately on task though I looked at her with an injured face which she ignored.

The tour was over and ever so slowly we sunk ourselves into the crowd, dragging Erik and Daroga close by. I didn't even want to think about what it'd be like if we lost them. The murmur of the crowds and the clattering of cashier registers and calling of tour guides to their groups surrounded us and instinctively I attached myself to Erik's trailing cloak; a trick I used in similar crowded hallways at school to actually stay with the person I was walking with.

Patient Max led poor Daroga around groups of excited French and even more excited, camera-wielding tourists. She wasn't ever a touchy person though, so Daroga had to keep close to her instead. It did seem like Daroga and Max were the kind of people that are perfect interacting with each other. Deep down, I wondered if I was the same but with Erik instead of the Persian. It felt like it was, though. What made me smile to myself was that Erik never noticed his new urchin…or he just didn't care. He stayed near the walls but looked about a great deal, ignoring my tight, deathlike grip on a fold of his clothing. I was happy.

"Emma!" Max cried out, waving from behind a small group of old women. "C'mon, let's go outside now; it's too crowded in here!"

I waved back and nodded, looking up uncertainly at Erik. His hand was flexing nervously and his eyes were sharp and wary. He didn't like it in here more than us.

"Ready?" I asked, making sure I sounded positive and confident. I felt like a very confused kindergartener teacher talking that way to an adult.

Thankfully Erik didn't care to read my mind and he glanced down at me then looked back up before giving the slightest of nods. Just like a child. I smiled wider and tugged slightly on my grip holder to get him moving.

"Great!" I enthused, making our way through the serf, taking care to avoid most of the larger masses of homo-sapiens. "Soon, we'll be out and about and we'll slap you two in something amazing and viola!"

He was silent but I think he preferred my constant talk. So I did. What a blessing he was! No one liked to her someone prattle on and on, generally. And especially not me. In no time at all we were outside and in the sun, so different from the time where we came we both stopped and blinked in shock. I recovered first and I relinquished my hold once again so I could throw out my arms and sigh loudly with content.

"Ah, twenty first century air!" I said with relish, "The words! The lack of them! The food! The pollution!"

A few passersby stared and a small group of older French boys by the stairs laughed. I only smiled wider and even went so far as to pretend to tip a high silk hat at them before looking back at Erik, beaming. But looking at him now made the smile on my face fade slightly.

Poor Erik looked extremely out of place and the sun was not kind to his already eccentric appearance. His mask gleamed dully and his clothes were painfully exposed to being so old fashioned it was more of a costume than regular garb. His eyes, or the spot were his eyes were, were pitch black and looked gone in the light. He acted cool but it was his tightly clenched fist that alerted me of his acute discomfort. I quickly came back to him with a sympathetic face.

"Got a wallet on you?" I teased his nervously, trying to ignore the people who were starting to stare at him as they walked in and out of the Opera. Unfortunately my prodding didn't make his fist loosen, but he shifted himself slightly and shook his head, still proud enough to cross his arms and turn his head down at me in that imperious way of his. Had I ever been made into an anime character, I would have drawn this scene of me with a large sweat drop over my head. Too bad I stink at drawing. Being human however, I only got to grin weakly and I looked around for a sign of Max.

Lucky for us they weren't too far off from where we came out. They had drawn off more to the side to avoid the bustle, and they actually found some shade to lurk in. Erik had already started making his way over so it was left to me to trip after him. I was glad he walked so quickly…the people around us were starting to look a little more warily at Erik. Probably thought he was some sort of murderous, sneaky man. Which he was but we couldn't let the public know that just yet.

"Clothing is a must," Max said flatly once we were within earshot. "They're standing out way too much."

I sighed and nodded. What was popular and fashionable then was strange and suspicious now. A shame really. Sometimes I think Erik's century got something down right.

"They don't have any money, though," I whined miserably, thinking of the prices of our glorious 21st century. "And I wanted to buy other stuff…"

Max's expression was flat and unfriendly. I mentally retreated and shut my mouth, waiting for the blow.

"It's not about you, Emma," she scolded irritably, "you've already got something cool so stop whining."

Daroga glanced uneasily between us as I bowed my head in submission. Erik didn't do anything but try to blend into the shadows as well as he could. Money was our biggest problem and priority. We didn't know how to get it, we didn't know what to do if we ever did get them dressed. And Erik's mask was sticking out so bad I wanted to shout at the people who looked at him funny. The mood of our whole little group was terrible and nothing was bringing it back up.

I found myself bitterly wishing we stayed in Daroga and Erik's time, where we didn't have to do anything. It was Max's turn to sigh and she dropped her backpack to drudge her purse up from its depths.

"I don't know how we're going to pay for two sets of clothes for you two," she muttered, mostly for herself.

Erik suddenly crossed over to her side, a frown in his voice.

"You?" he asked disapprovingly, "You shall not buy Erik anything. He won't permit it."

Max looked up, startled as my mouth dropped open.

"What?" she asked him uncertainly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Erik's voice was resolute and firm.

"You shall not buy. That is not permissible, even if you are Erik's hostess. Erik will buy what he needs himself."

I jumped as Daroga suddenly coughed, glaring at Erik meaningfully. I blinked as I recalled that the Persian hadn't the foggiest of what was going around him unless someone translated. Erik ignored him and went on.

"Even if I have no wallet, I have money stored."

I squawked in alarm and hurriedly covered my mouth, pretending I wasn't shocked at him using the term 'I' for himself. He barely turned his head towards me and for once I struggled for words. Max saved me and asked him the question I wanted to.

"Where?" she said, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"My banker," Erik said rather smugly.

I nearly fainted from the first person talk.

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	20. Chapter 20

**Hey! Thanks for all your reviews, everybody! Your anger was much understood. So! I have an update for you all! And it didn't take months!! Thank you, thank you readers and reviewers and/or both! **

**DISCLAIMER: Noooo Phantom for me. But the albino is mine. **

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Part Twenty:

"What do you _mean_ you have money?" I choked out, my eyes surely bugging out of their sockets.

I think he almost smiled as he watched me but he never sounded any different from his normal I-am-above-you voice. Oh, how I would start to hate that voice. Hate it and love it all at the same time.

"You never asked if Erik had money," he said to me mildly.

I mouthed at him angrily and turned away from him to mime a strangling of something.

"But…Erik," I heard Max protesting behind me, "This is a completely different time! Whoever was your banker would probably not be alive anymore!"

This fact didn't seem to bother him and he spoke no more about it. He merely pointed out with one incredibly long finger in the direction of the shops and stalls were. I was surprised he wasn't thrown off and asking if the shops would still be there.

"Go and stay in one of those," he commanded sternly, "Erik will go and speak to his banker."

Right on cue, Max started to protest, but I leaned across her and cut in. I wanted to see where this banker fellow was. Poor Daroga watched with disgust, looking back and forth from speaker to speaker.

"No problem," I assured Erik with a sly smile, "We'll be waiting for you."

I kept that smile there until Erik, with great hesitance, turned and walked away. Daroga exclaimed one thing or another and attempted to follow his gut instinct of following Erik before I caught his arm. I never got a dirtier, more hate filled look than the one Daroga gave me in that instant. I scowled right on back and carefully released him. Amazingly enough, he did not try to leave again. I had a feeling we wouldn't be on so great terms for a long time.

"Don't make me put a leash on you," I threatened emptily, as if he could understand me.

He just glared. Max then grabbed my arm instead, her face contorted with rage.

"Why did you let him go?" she hissed, nodding her head at Erik's retreating back. "We'll never get him to come back!"

I shrugged her hand off gently and laughed, seemingly carefree.

"Don't worry, Max!" I said with a grin. "I'm going to be the one who'll follow him!"

She stared at me as I beamed at her.

"Look after Daroga, he'll try to slip away I bet," I warned her, giving over my backpack while simultaneously snatching her sunglasses out of hers.

Slipping them on, I got a warning about if I lost them, I wouldn't have to worry about eye protection after she'd get done with me. Also I got warning that if I got lost, it would be my own dang fault and it'd be my fault if I never learned French properly. With a sigh, I nodded and promised and giving the Persian a methodical glare with charming smile I sulked after our phantom.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

And it proved to be nearly dang impossible! Almost immediately e disappeared and I spent a lot of time running and ducking into doorways, allies, and the occasional flowerpot, thinking I had spotted him. He didn't make a nice, easy trail to follow, as he both turned and twisted down countless roads and allies. Even worse, he kept close to the shadows and I almost always lost him in the shade.

I kept close, but not too close. I cursed him silently, now truly realizing the Persian's pain. Why did these things happen to me anyways…? Oh yeah, because I brought them upon myself. Exhausted, I took a break after ten full minutes of stalking, waving a hand over my face. Stupid phantoms! I was lost now; completely and utterly lost. I felt like slapping myself as I recalled with some dismay that I had left my backpack with Max and I owned no cell phone at the moment. This wasn't my day.

I bit my lip, not completely nervous yet but certainly getting there. Perhaps I was just in the wrong place to see Erik. Perhaps he was just beyond the next block. Feeling slightly revived I trotted along a little further, looking down any intersection I passed. No sign of Erik. Now I'll admit I was getting worried. And I really hate being worried, that was Max's job.

Feeling fully irritated, I kicked a nearby wall in frustration then clung to the offending foot as pain shot up my leg. I grit my teeth and muttered tightly contained profanities as I hopped on one foot. A low chuckle made me hop around, all the hairs on my neck standing on end. I didn't realize anyone was with me. This was an empty road at the time.

"Hello?" I asked the air uncertainly, not relinquishing my throbbing foot.

I didn't get an answer. Creepy, but not surprising. I really hated creepy.

"If you're a creeper, I'm loaded with mace," I warned the silent chuckle, hopping away from the source of the sound. "And if you like young girls, I'm a guy."

The silence only made me hop faster. What I said were both lies, of course. The boy thing I could've gotten away with, sadly but still. What kind of guy carried mace? And some creepers liked little boys, too. These thoughts weren't comforting and I will admit I was getting a little freaked out. I never used to have problems because I'm so weird looking. Maybe French creepers liked weird things. They ate snails here, for goodness sake!

Scared as I was inside, I wasn't about to show it. I set my jaw grimly and letting go of my leg, I jogged away. No footsteps followed to my luck, and I didn't hear anything but the faint noise of people and even farther away noise of heavy, Parisian traffic. But I still didn't feel safe at all. I didn't realize how far I was from other people until now. And I realized, with a sick stomach, that I was practically vulnerable. And that pissed me well off.

"I can tell you're there!" I shouted, "And you really suck at being a creeper…eep!"

I felt what little blood flowing into my face drain suddenly, only to force its way back up to make a fiery glow in my cheeks as Erik removed himself from the shadows a ways _in front of me. _I slowly drew up my finger, pointed accusingly and choked out a relieved, and very angry "YOU!"

As customary, he didn't say anything but stood there, looking ridiculous in his old fashioned suit. I swear he was smiling, though. I seriously want to harm him and hug him tight all at the same time.

"You suck!" I cried out finally, "I thought you were some sort of-.."

"'Creeper'?" he offered, the amusement thick in his tone. "Interesting terms you have, mademoiselle."

I sort of felt like crying. What a bully! He tried to scare me on purpose, I bet! I stomped my foot at him irritably and turned on my heel to go back down the way I came. I didn't want to be around him at all right now. I know it's just because I felt embarrassed, but still, he didn't have to scare me like that.

It took me a while to notice he was strolling along right beside me with ease. He was silent and I refused to talk to him. This is where I noticed a bundle in his hand. I glared at it for a moment, asking with my eyes what it was but Erik wouldn't say a word.

"What's that?" I asked moodily.

He shifted his grip and the bundle disappeared into the folds of his cloak. I felt a challenge from that.

"What was that, Erik?" I repeated, with more suspicion.

"My purse," he said shortly, leaving no further room for discussion.

I, however, would work hard to make an opening for myself.

"Your banker was alive?" I asked, both in surprise and in pestering him.

I made sure he knew that not answering wasn't an option. No way would I let him get away with anything, not for the stunt he pulled on me! You can probably tell I had a hard time getting over this. What was more obvious was the fact that Erik didn't like questions and he hated answering them. But the fact he did answer nearly swept me off my feet in a dead faint.

"No, not anymore," Erik kept his head forward, "his descendents were there, however, just as Erik suspected they would."

I stared at him, trying to process what he told me on a deeper level.

"Are you sad?" I found my mouth asking before I could shut it tight. Before he could say another word, I felt compelled to apologize and would have gone off on a good long, apology rant until he cut me off.

"No," he said naturally, "he was only a banker, just a being one would work with. Erik has no affection for anyone."

I only managed to nod. Did that make Max and me just business workers? Just someone he had to deal with in order to get what he wanted? I felt insignificant in that moment and I wondered if Christine ever felt that way. Probably not, I thought wryly. Christine would all but be showered with Erik's undying devotion and love. Then, only to reject it and him because of how he looked. And for being a creeper, living underground but we won't go into that.

I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, to avoid his notice. He didn't know whatsoever that even he, the phantom would never escape Love's clutches. Even he, a walking dead man, wouldn't be able to hide from the pain and joy of loving someone more than anything in the world. Poor, unhappy Erik. Another thought came to me.

"Hey Erik," I stopped walking so that he had to pause as well. "Doesn't that mean the bankers…descendents, wouldn't even know you? How'd you get the money or whatever else is in there?"

I stood there awkwardly as he studied me with invisible eyes, pondering on my worthiness for such an answer. If he had a super power, it would be X-ray vision to the soul. It was really creepy to have him watch you.

"Erik leaves a lasting impression," he finally said, ominously. "They were asked to hold a burden until the client came to fetch it. So Erik fetched it."

He started walking again, silent and dark and thin. I repressed a shudder. Erik was strange…alien even, when he talked like that. I could understand why anyone, especially Christine, would be terrified of him. There just was something in his air that commanded immediate respect and fear. At that moment, I couldn't see the human in him.

I bit my lip before hurrying back to his side.

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** I really enjoy writing this, but I keep thinking that the paragraphs sound funny...does it seem alright to you? Does my style suck? **

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	21. NOTICE

**Beloved readers, your story provider, Haleybob (me) is going on a most amazing trip to Ireland and isn't going to be able to update for a week. Please, don't hurt me, I'm writing in a notebook the whole way there. **

**...**

**IT'S GOING TO BE AMAZING AND REALLY IRONIC! AHAHAHA! **

**For those who don't understand, I'm going to Europe with MY BAND. It makes my story feel all the more realistic since it's happening to me. Only the fact that it's not in Paris, France and there's no magic except the magic of beautiful Ireland countryside keeps it from being the story I am currently writing. Now I'll know exactly how things go in airports with bands and hotels and...and...IT'S JUST SO COOL!**

**Thought you all should know and do forgive me. I would take you all with in a heartbeat if I could. **

**Bon voyage!**


	22. Chapter 21

**Friends, readers, bless your patience and your ignorance of where I live. I HAVE AN UPDATE. READ IT. GO GO GO GO.**

**DISCLAIMER:** Do not own the valuable Phantom.... (sobs)

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**Part Twenty-one:**

Thankfully, Erik was a true Parisian and he had a map in his head, seeing as we made it back to the stores in half the time it took me to track him down. Or for him to track me down, whichever came first. Now would be the fun task of hunting down the right store that contained Max and the Persian. Normally this would be easy, what with a handy cell phone and international phone line. Now, however, we were on our own.

I looked up at Erik expectantly, waiting for some amazing, phantom-y skills to reveal themselves. Imagine my surprise when I saw Erik looked back at me with that same expectancy. I guess being from the future, we'd have come up with a better way to locate our friends. I felt sort of sorry that I couldn't comply and that the future way of finding someone was just as dependable on other terminal things a few centuries ago. I told him this with some shame.

"Okay, so we're still lost," I sighed as he smoldered. I pushed up my sunglasses to scratch my nose, pretending I didn't know how irritated he was. "Any ideas?"

He glared at me in an unfriendly way.

"Shop to shop, then!" I declared with a cheerfulness I did not feel. "Onward!"

I looked eagerly to the shops, wanting to go in all of them, but not to look for my friend. No, I wanted to look through them myself! Earlier in our trip we got to visit a few, but certainly not enough in my opinion! Perhaps I could go in some more if I found Max… Max is easy to pinpoint if you know her. Using our predicament and a vast knowledge invested in myself, I cut off food, wine, and perfume shops. Daroga would have to submit to Max's hard-core will if he ever wanted to get around safely. Poor fellow looked like a stop sign would do to keel him over.

But I was barely able to take a step before Erik seized my collar, holding me back. Erik never touched us as a rule, either personal or just normal politeness so indeed I was surprised! I let out an unlovely squawk and looked up…and up at him in confusion, keeping myself stiff as a board as to not bump back into him. In his own way of answering me, however, he held up his bundle. I turned my gaze to it instead, nothing clicking.

"Is the money appropriate for this time?" he asked finally, exasperated that I would force him to actually use vocalizations.

"So that's what was in your bag!" I blurted out.

"Yes, yes, of course," he nodded impatiently, "Erik can not assume anything would be so similar now, however. Francs are used or no?"

"Oh!" I understood and promptly slapping my forehead loudly I could answer. "Oh, no, nope. Not at all. It's all about euros, now."

With some sort of flourish, I whipped out a one euro coin from my shoe (secret stash for coins) and showed him. He peered down at it for only a minute before silently turning on his heel, his bony hand still clutching my collar.

"Now where are we going?" I yelped, hopping backwards with minimal success.

"Where do you think?" he said shortly.

He twirled me back forward with an easy flick of his wrist. My head spun and I stumbled to regain my footing. He was extremely strong! I noted his figure with a quick glance. A skinny, tall guy being so strong! It was kinda scary, you know?

"Bank?" I guessed instead, trying to quicken my stride length to catch up to his which border was lining impossible.

If we weren't in a terrible hurry, Erik would have stopped and applauded. You could just see it in his sloping shoulders and skeletal hands. I almost thought he would either laugh or cry. Either would've been awkward to witness. Instead he didn't even turn his head when he replied dryly:

"Your inquisitive skills are astounding, mademoiselle Emma."

I was about to reply something witty and completely logical when I paused. Did he just call me by my actual name? E-M-M-A? _My_ name? I felt a flush of pleasure spread across my hot cheeks and I started to grin. He called me by name in that wonderful, gorgeous voice! My name never sounded so great, so smooth, and so practically perfect. Would Christine feel this joy I had? What a thing, I thought, to be loved and to be called to by Erik.

He never noticed but right there and then I did a small soft shoe dance in place. I was ecstatic. Who cared where Max and Daroga were? So long as I got to walk around crowded streets with Erik, I had no other want. Even when he sighed and talked to himself in French under his breath, or threw me those exasperated looks I got from family and friends, I was happy right then and there. I darn well almost told him that I was happy, but thankfully I stopped myself.

We walked and walked and I started to feel ever so tired and I wished ever so much that Erik would just hurry up when Erik stopped in that I'm-stopping-now-regardless-of-you way of his. I yawned and took a good step away from him, giving his personal space bubble room.

"Are we here…?" I started to ask.

But Erik had already disappeared inside. I looked around me nervously, hoping that we weren't as lost as I felt we were. I took a look at the bank we had arrived at. The Monte Paschi Banque on Rue Meyerbeer. Funny, I thought, I wonder how he would get money without an account. On that thought I scuttled inside.

And to no surprise, Erik was already talking away. At first I was worried about his mask and whether or not he'd be taken as some robber. Then I spotted him and got to sigh in some form of relief. He had his nose on and the man behind the counter didn't look so pleased with his client. Of course, it may have not been Erik's face that displeased him, though he looked ghastly in the lighting, but the fact that Erik's voice was smooth and demanding as usual and there was little the man got to put in for himself. Frankly I felt a little sorry for him.

I shuffled over to Erik's dark side like a shy child out with a parent, trying to look like we were absolutely normal. I couldn't understand (of course) what the heck Erik was saying, but he seemed at ease. And that put me immediately at ease. He and the banker man didn't take notice of my arrival, but continued to talk in rapid French, the man making irritated movements. Finally the man disappeared into a door behind the counter and Erik lent me his precious attention once more.

"Are you all done, Uncle?" I said with mock innocence.

He didn't reply while I sniggered to myself. I managed to compose myself a little more than usually and leaned on the counter, staring up at him.

"No, really, are you okay or are they gonna kick you out of the country?" I asked semi-seriously. If we had any problems with the authorities or anything of Erik's identity, we would find it extremely hard to help him or Daroga at all. Thankfully Erik was truly a genius and soothed me.

"Everything is under control," he almost purred, looking quite pleased with himself. "Erik was clever enough to plan ahead for something equal to this. You may worry no more."

I raised my translucent eyebrows at his lack of modesty but generously left it alone. Instead I smiled and rested my chin on the tall counter.

"You're rich?" I asked casually, flicking up only my eyes to peer at him.

The dark holes where his eyes hid flickered and the lipless mouth formed a humorless smile. I repressed a shudder, but only just. Ghastly didn't cover it. Just like his fake nose didn't completely cover his nose hole. I loved the man just like family or with a typical fangirl admiration, but he was not kind to look at. And that's just the nice way of saying it. The mean way is much more truthful and blunt. He was hideous.

"Enough to pass," he said dismissively as I averted my eyes back behind the sunglasses so he couldn't read my veiled, pitying disgust. "Do not worry."

"You keep saying that," I persisted as the banker man came back, looking sour, "but that just makes me worry more."

With another gruesome smile Erik answered whatever the man had asked that my ears did not catch. I now looked at my new Uncle with free reign, wondering if it was just his face that wasn't lovely. I did not fear him because of his looks, however. Do not get me wrong, _mon amis_. No, the disgust I looked at him with was that which a person would cast on a beloved's smashed face after a wreck or surgery. I looked at him with pity, but not the condescending gaze but a yearning one for him to be happy. I looked at him with the love of a mother holding a newborn, wrinkled, pruned baby who distorts its little features with its fierce screeches. Heck, I wasn't a pretty picture myself! I had no room to think myself better.

Besides, it was not that his ugliness made him less enjoyable. Indeed I've met quite a few wonderful people with not the handsomest faces but even then I could find properties in their physique that I found charming. Hands, especially. I held one friend of mine back in the States with fondness. He had model hands, smooth and well proportioned with no defects or protruding veins. He didn't like them, but everyone always admired his hands.

Casting this view upon Erik, I found that he had the figure of a teenage boy: lean, long, lanky but without the natural clumsiness thankfully. His skin was paper thin it seemed, and stretched over a frame a little too large for it, making any bone far from the inside stick out most painfully. Of course, he was covered from top to bottom in clothing so his thinness wasn't that evident.

He was signing something and I was caught unawares that his gloves were removed. I now fixed my eyes on his hands eagerly and caught myself up with a thought. If someone stretched a rubber glove doctors use over a skeleton hand, that would be Erik's hand. I could see almost all the bones, and his hand was so long, it was nearly improbable. Still, it scrawled just as smoothly as the rest of him. Jerkiness and blunt gestures did not match up with Erik.

A swoop of a black cloak snapped me out of my musings and not too late I turned and caught up with his retreating back. The bag he once had was now gone and I caught his now covered hands slipping a handy wallet into a hidden pocket.

"So now we go hunting?" I chirped cheerfully.

He gave a nod and I grinned.

"Got an idea of where to go?" I asked him.

He shook his head and I grinned again.

"Great."

My afternoon with Erik would be just that more prolonged.

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**FORGIVE MEEEEEEE.... **

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	23. Chapter 22

**Readers! Devotees! I thank you for your awesome reviews, your support of my story, and your interest in it! Thank you all. It's only because of you that I write and I continue to post and update, although I do always write for pleasure and business as well. Just...thank you and I'll get on with the update!**

**DISCLAIMER: There may be a rumor that I own Phantom. However this is false. ...There wasn't a rumor? Then that was false as well. **

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Part Twenty-two:

A part of me knew deep down, as I half jogged by Erik's side, that Max was somewhere in a shop boiling mad. As happy and content as I felt, I knew I would have to face that shaking volcano of fury. And it rather scared me. Scared me so much I tried to hurry Erik along, but of course with little success. Soon after my fourth attempt at rushing him he turned and stopped me, looking fully irritated. I swallowed and instinctively started to raise my hand to the level of my eyes. He positively burned a hole in my skull as he addressed me quite coolly.

"Mademoiselle, if you continue to rush Erik, his patience will no longer exist." He said, "Erik is perfectly aware that locating mademoiselle Max is crucial at this time. Do stop."

I nodded meekly but also shrugged rather helplessly, looking around the streets and buildings and people that surrounded us. I couldn't help feeling a sense of buzzing at the base of my skull, a warning of something bad. Either that or the sun was really getting to me. I felt a little dizzy. I was going to tell Erik, but he turned down another street, Rue St Honoré, and disappeared from my sight. For a moment I panicked, but his dark death's head poked out again and he beckoned with one finger towards me, helping me locate him.

I stumbled his way and barely got to glance up at the store in which Erik entered. Monsieur Elysées, it proclaimed in bold blue letters to the world on the cream building glass. Espace 237 it added, but I didn't know exactly what that was. A clothing shop, I noted. I would have much preferred the chocolate store next to it in a heartbeat.

I made a face at the headless mannequins in the front display and scurried inside. Erik was not too far away, but looking at some mannequins that still had their heads attached but seemed to be missing their faces. I was surprised French mannequins weren't much different from American ones.

He studied the suits with mild interest as I stumbled back to his side, my chest heaving from my recent panic.

"See anything you like?" I asked him sarcastically, stepping next to the mannequin to keep him from turning to look at me, not that he bothered.

Really what I was hoping for is that he wouldn't notice the newer styles and allowances of this century. This being, the feminine sections where the skirts did not exactly go to their ankles and the one embarrassingly bare female mannequin near the back a store keeper was thankfully clothing. Then again, I reasoned, what was I trying to protect him from? He was a good old, early fifties late forties fellow. He was French. He had been in the streets without a murmur of the difference. It felt silly to shield him here, in his own country and city. He probably knew more unpleasant things than I did. That and there were naked statues in the Opera. What were a few nude mannequins to him?

With these thoughts in mind I waited impatiently as he fingered a red tie. He noticed this.

"Erik being in the proper clothes will allow us to locate your friend without problems," he stated simply, gliding off to where the racks of clothing were offered.

I stared at his retreating back. He was turning into a Max! Quickly I followed like the puppy I felt like. He seemed to not grasp the meaning of the size numbers as he looked over a pair of black slacks that could be compared to one of the black suited dummies. I watched him with vague amusement as he held them up with confusion, a frown on his death's head. Taking careful steps towards him I collected the pants and looked at the tag…and nearly dropped them in alarm. Sixty-seven euros for a pair of pants! My eyes found his (with difficulty) and my jaw dropped in utter amazement.

"Are they the wrong size?" he asked, quite indifferent to the topic of my acute distress.

I mouthed at him in the way he had once said made me look like a fish and turned away from him to compose myself. He was rich, I reasoned wildly in my head, he was rich and had rich tastes. It's not my money, after all. I turned back with a quick smile and told him I hadn't the foggiest of his modern size, since things were undoubtedly different now. But he and I would do our best to find the right size. Unfortunately he looked more irritated than relieved. He asked me why there were not people to measure him, to tell him his measurements and gather clothes for him to try on.

My brow creased. I knew we really didn't do that in America, not in any of the stores I went to. I was just as foreign here as Erik and I didn't know the ways of the French shops. I told him this and apologized quickly. The last thing I needed was an angry Erik. Or worse, an angry Erik who was particularly inclined to blame me for these shortcomings. This seemed even more likely to happen. I appropriately started to break out into cold sweat.

However, he had his own ideas in mind.

"Erik will see to this problem," he said presently, and with an elegant swoop he headed straight for the store worker.

I watched him, rather horrified and awestruck all at the same time. This would be fun to watch. And this would also be a very bad thing to go wrong. There was no way we would get by in this century alive if Erik kept nosing…oh, ha-ha, nose joke… if Erik kept _prodding_ into subjects that were best left alone. Indeed the store employee looked a little more than confused as Erik talked to them. I hurried over, wondering if the worker spoke enough English for me to explain Erik away. I certainly couldn't speak to anyone who didn't!

To my immediate surprise, however, as soon as I approached the employee had nodded understandingly at Erik and had left him and me for the moment to hurry away. Erik looked extremely smug and gave me a horrific grin of victory. My own mouth twitched into a scowl. Erik got points for being clever and he knew it.

When the worker came back, we were taken to the back of the store, in the dressing rooms. Obviously I was placed outside of this and left to wait impatiently. I really wished I had been smart enough to take a phone. So much time had passed and I knew as soon as Max spotted me I would be in zipping trouble. Then I was surprised again when the worker poked his head out at me and started jabbering away in French. I blinked, confused.

"Er… _je ne parler pas française_?" I fumbled, trying in vain to rack up a decent sentence that would explain my problem.

He looked at me funny, which could tell me quite a few things: one being my illiteracy, or two my atrocious accent, three being what I said was in the wrong order, or even that I got it right but he was too busy looking at my obvious albino-ness. The latter would rather piss me off so instead I arranged my features to look politely puzzled. The worker seemed to perceive the problem and inverted to English, which was broken and he raised his voice a little more, slowly speaking as if I were a little child, but he was understandable at least.

"_Monsieur_," he started by pointing back in the dressing room, "want you to help with clothes. What want?"

He pointed around the store to emphasis his point. I could have pretended to think about what he said, but he didn't do that when I spoke French so I resisted the small urge. Instead, I smiled and nodded and got up to look at the suits, or at least that's what I thought. The worker grabbed my arm gently and brought out a notepad on which he scrawled numbers, pointing at each then pointing at corresponding clothing on himself.

"_Merci_," I said in my American way, which probably sounded utterly ridiculous to him, taking the paper.

He nodded, satisfied, and walked back in the dressing room.

I now looked at the notepad with the numbers, chewing my bottom lip. He had been helpful enough to write out the actual digits, but I couldn't understand how the numbers were what they were. Frankly I wondered if they were genuine because when I remembered how tall and lanky Erik was, I didn't think these numbers fit. I don't even dare say them now, you see. In case that Erik would find out I told because I guess telling people others' measurements is very rude I guess.

So with a heroic face I started looking through the mens' clothing, trying to find something in good taste (while ignoring the prices as best as I could, the miser in me weeping) but also obviously modern. It wasn't difficult to find the measurements given, but it certainly wasn't easy. But, finally I had chosen two complete suits of the modern look and style, very pleasing to the eyes or at least to mine. One was of course, either black or a very dark grey with a black shirt and dark grey silk tie and the other a light cream with a white shirt and the red silk tie he had looked over from before.

"Try on these two, Erik!" I chirped, coming back into the dressing room.

He was waiting with astonishing patience, sitting in a chair by the little individual rooms. He rose from this chair and stepped forward to collect what I handed to him. I beamed at him while he glanced his stack over, sliding over the red tie more than once. He then looked up at me.

"Erik will need more clothes," he said firmly, "He cannot wear only two suits! Fetch more."

I stared at him dolefully but he pointed me out the door and I fell that hour or so to darting back and forth with suits of all colors and styles. There now were two piles on the chair. Keeps and put aways, with the put aways a bigger stack. More than once the poor store employee poked his head in, inquired at Erik only to be sent away again. I didn't press him for time, though. I noticed vaguely that if I complained about the time Erik took his sweet time.

In the end he had all he wanted laid out on the counter and me waiting to receive the bags they were put in. I had to admire the store keeper's patience and self sacrifice as he ringed us up. I heard the final price, but I couldn't remember the French numbers. That and I suspected that it would be quite expensive and I didn't want to know. The receipt was given for Erik to sign and I could see the top of the counter. Erik held the pen delicately and his movements were graceful, but what came out as a product was laughable.

He had the spikiest, sloppiest handwriting I ever knew of. A little more than scribbles, it looked like it took Erik a very, very extraordinary effort just to get it readable. Gaston knew what he was talking of when he said a child had written the red inked notes. The store worker and I exchanged glances of surprise, but we said nothing. Me being silent for my safety and he for his business because you shouldn't insult your customers.

I think Erik could tell what we thought even though we were in silence and he dropped the bags into my unready arms and swept out quickly. I rather felt like a servant trotting after him, cumbered with his purchases. He beckoned me along, stating if I fell behind he would not willingly slow down for me.

"We're in a lot of trouble," I mumbled into the bags as I followed him along.

"Why?" he asked smoothly, "we have made our stops and we are on time."

I didn't realize the time and when he mentioned it I yelped and stopped.

"Our concert!" I wailed as he grudgingly turned to come back to me. "Oh, oh, oh! I forgot all about our concert! Stupid Emma! Stupid, stupid!"

I began my process of self infliction by setting the bags down so I could smack myself violently on the forehead repeatedly. We had been wandering around for hours! The concert was tonight, and we had to get ready an hour before! I don't think many people can understand the panic a musician feels when knowing you are going to be late for a performance. A performance is your lifeblood; it's what the people remember. No one knows how hard you work when you're practicing. All the audience knows is how you perform, in that one moment of music.

Already the sun was sinking in the sky and it made my stomach twist in horrible, painful knots. Erik however watched my fluttering calmly and quite at ease.

"You shouldn't knock your head so," he said, "You could smack your brain right out. And that would be most unfortunate."

I stopped my beating to stare at him in aghast.

"Why?" I asked, in spite of my panic.

He didn't answer, just as I thought he won't, but merely pointed behind me. I slowly turned, and slowly, it dawned on me. I shouldn't be smacking myself because I would deprive Max of killing me. And with her standing just behind me and with that look on her face with an equally furious Persian, it was exactly her thoughts. My life would be ending soon, and I must admit I wasn't thinking about my regrets of my past. I kept thinking about how Erik got another point. I hated that.

And he knew it.

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**Love it, hate it? Lemme know! I'll update either way...unless there's a huge mob outside my window waiting to disembowl me if I ever so update again.... (checks windows). **


	24. Chapter 23

**UPDATED. WHEW. SORRY.**

**DISCLAIMER:** **The owership of Phantom does not belong to me.**

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**Part Twenty-three:**

"Emma…" Max said through clenched teeth.

I was now a statue and could only watch in vague horror as my friend's fingers wrapped around my throat, quite literally I assure you. She squeezed once and though she relaxed her grip from truly strangling me, she shook me like a bad child with an ill tempered mother. My brains rattled in my head and I felt my eyes roll back and forth as she shook me hard, all the while yelling at me at how stupid and how irresponsible I had been. Had I been in control of my shaking vision, I would have seen a very docile Erik with an equally matched shocked Daroga.

Once she had shaken me to perfection, she released me and calmed herself by taking deep breaths. I was so dizzy, I squatted right where I stood and attempted to fix my disheveled mass of pale hair. Erik took to standing over me, watching me with much amusement.

"Where have you both been?" Max finally asked, cool and collected once more.

I pressed my lips together in fear of saying the wrong thing. I looked up at my dear uncle for aid. He answered by plucking up the shopping bags and holding them out to her. She didn't take them but looked through the pants, shirts, and jackets inside. Her nose was wrinkled up in thought. Finally she looked at us both with an acidic stare.

"You weren't supposed to go shopping," she chided me, avoiding Erik's gaze. "You were just supposed to go to the bank!"

I nodded and did my best to look repentant. She sighed and pointed out Daroga to me, whom I just started to look at. Daroga had already been shopping, though he only wore one suit and didn't have any bags with him. The suit wasn't even complete. It apparently showed to me and Erik that Max had bought it with her own money.

For those of you who are fascinated with clothing, our dear Persian was wearing tan slacks, brown shoes, a green striped button-down shirt (which did the world of good for his lovely, equally green eyes), and an open tan jacket. He didn't have a tie, and the two buttons at the top of his shirt were undone. But still perched precariously upon his head was that ridiculous fez hat of his. He looked and probably felt very odd. But I had to admit, Max did very well with what she had. He also looked presentable.

I started to smile at him and he glared. Max later explained they had gone to a second-hand clothing shop they found, and some of the stuff was miraculously on sale. Nothing was on sale for very long and very often in France. I then nodded my approval over his dress to which Max only gave me another withering glare. She then turned her attention to Erik with a surprisingly apologetic air and to my irritation, spoke to him, instead of good old understandable English, in French. She knew I couldn't understand much, and was aiming for my inability of that language to speak to Erik in private.

I fumed and would have complained to Daroga…but we all know that wouldn't have gone very far. He didn't like me much, anyways. So there I stood, feeling awkward until the conversation was done. Erik looked at me with little interest while Max gripped her head in agitation.

"What shall we do about them now?" she asked no one. "We have to go back to our hotel and get ready…!"

"I offered that we keep them at our hotel." I said sulkily, pulling at a strand of my hair.

Max just shook her head and continued to mumble under her breath, upset in her own way. We watched her pace back and forth, muttering ideas to herself and also exterminating those ideas when they didn't come up perfect. Daroga followed her with his eyes, back and forth, a frown on his olive-skinned face. Erik took to standing by my side again. I looked up at him, nervous as to what we could do. I then found out what the Persian felt like because Erik looked as calm as he could be. This is truly an aggravating thing when you're going to be in big trouble and you're not panicking correctly.

"Are you performing with a musical group?" Erik asked me evenly, like he was merely commenting on the weather.

I avoided tearing at my hair but I nodded, not trusting my voice level to speak to him. He seemed to think about this for only a moment before stating:

"I should like to see that."

He then handed me the bags and walked over to Max, holding up one hand to stop her pacing. To my surprise, she did stop and listened to him warily. He spoke persuasively, but I wasn't buying it. Max never gave in to others' wills. Imagine my shock when she nodded and seemed to accept whatever he discussed with her softly. She didn't look happy, but she was assenting. A miracle!

"So what's happening?" I demanded when they returned to us again. "What're we doing?"

Max looked gravely at me and glanced at Erik who nodded. Apparently this would be difficult to tell me. I felt like a parent with a naughty teenager who didn't want to say where they were all night.

"They're going to come with us to the hotel after all," she sighed finally.

I nodded, knowing there was more. Unfortunately she seemed to be through right there. She didn't say anything for awhile. I tapped my foot.

"And?" I persisted.

Erik frowned at me for being nosy, but I didn't care. I would rather have known what was going on for now then not. And Max always told me I should become more informed. She looked at me now and sighed heavily.

"And they're going to watch us perform."

I stared and started to laugh, clutching my stomach. This was phenomenal! A plan such as that going past Max's keen sensibility and into reality? It didn't seem possible. Or, at least it didn't seem possible until I noticed that no one joined me in my mirth. I stopped.

"No, really," I asked between my nervous giggles, "what's happening?"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

We had to almost run to get to the hotel on time. Erik, once informed of the area where the building was, raced in the front to lead the way. We had to trust his judgment and his lack of knowledge of about a century or so to get us through the twining streets of Paris. Strangely enough, I didn't feel nervous or doubting but I followed with faith. If I couldn't trust Erik the crazy genius, there weren't too many others that I could.

But soon the streets looked more familiar and I noticed as we hurried along the perfume shop Max and I had stopped next to before going to the Opera House. Even though that occurred on the same day, it felt like an eternity from now. Did we really complete the whole time with Erik in only a matter of minutes? I put my thoughts to the road instead of confusing time warps.

"We made it!" Max suddenly gasped while I panted near her.

We arrived at our hotel in one piece and with two uncles. Just as planned. I grinned and congratulated ourselves while my friends hurried inside. Our hotel was nice, like I said, but it wasn't the most expensive one out there. It felt like any other hotel you would find, only that there were French speakers and more art. As we entered the entrance way, I spotted other Band kids scurrying along as well. We weren't the only ones who were late.

I was about to tell this to Max but she was already hot on the heels of Erik, who was veering towards the elevators in a fascinated air.

Daroga, as always, followed like an obedient puppy. I felt the same as I charged after them.

"Emma!" a voice cried my name and I turned unwillingly to see my section leader, Pam, waving at me to come over.

I looked from the opened elevator where Erik was loading himself in, Max and Daroga trying to get in, and back to Pam. With a look to Max, I came to my leader with difficulty.

"What's up, Pammy?" I said, trying to be light and carefree.

The ding of the elevator made me look over my shoulder. Erik was gone. A cold sweat broke out over me and it took Herculean effort for me to focus back on Pam. Pam wasn't happy at the moment. She scolded me for just a moment for being late and leaving my itinerary at the breakfast table. I nodded and looked properly ashamed while shifting myself in her view, so that she wouldn't spot anything out of the ordinary like Max talking with Daroga while racing up the stairway.

"Now go get ready," Pam finished when I paid attention, "We got to leave in less than ten minutes."

"What about our instruments?" I asked, finally acting responsible since Max wasn't here to learn about all that for me.

"In the bus with us."

With another scowl Pam trotted off, her long black hair bouncing with her small, quick steps. I waited only for a moment before bolting to the staircase. I shouted Max's name, but there was no reply except for a tuba player up top who yelled something very inappropriate back. I ignored him and took the stairs two at a time, trying to ignore the cramp in my ribs that was starting up.

"Stupid, stupid, curious phantom!" I growled as I came up on the fourth floor where our room was.

I pushed open the door that let me into the hall and I was relieved to find Max. I ran up to her and she grabbed my hand as soon as I came close.

"Erik is gone!" she said, looking very harassed, "I can't find him…I don't know what floor he went to!"

I stared at her in horror.

"Well, what about Daroga?" I demanded.

She blushed and pointed down the hall to our room.

"I put him in there," she said, "I didn't know what to do with him, and Mr. Party was coming…"

I balked and looked both ways down the hall, feeling more sweaty and tired than ever before. If Mr. Party saw Max put a man in our room, she would be sent home. She would also be kicked out of Band, and perhaps even school. It was very dangerous to do, but as soon as she saw the worry in my eyes she was quick to reassure me that Mr. Party saw nothing and Daroga had been given strict instruction to stay put.

I took that time to tell her we had less than ten minutes to get dressed and get ourselves and our instruments in the buses. I sort of wished I didn't tell her because she went very pale. I held out my hand to steady her, in case she fainted but she pushed it away and instead pulled me into our room, using the card that I forgot she always carried. This was a good thing because I had forgotten to get my own key card before we left.

Just as Max said, Daroga was inside, pacing and looking very disturbed. He looked up sharply as we came in and immediately started to speak to Max. However she quickly silenced him and looked at the door, a look of panic on it. However I had pressed hard on the dumb door, closing it tight. No one, besides our trumpet roommate, was getting in. I think she told him that he shouldn't speak, in case someone was listening at the door because he looked dubious. Thankfully, it seemed he trusted Max enough to listen to her.

"We have to change and get ready," she said fretfully, digging into her bags. "We'll find Erik after."

I nodded and took out my own clothes. The Persian seemed to realize what we needed to do because he turned and stared out the window. I wasn't going to change in front of him, however. And Max was much more in control than that. We took turns going in the bathroom. I kind of had to step back and marvel at my friend. Her concert attire looked very nice, black blouse and pants and shoes, and her hair was straight and well kept despite the worry that ruined her normally peaceful, pretty face. She nearly pushed me in the bathroom and told me and Daroga in turn that she would be looking for Erik, but she would be going to the bus and I should go, too.

I changed as fast as I could and glared once at my reflection. I once again looked like an albino vampire, dressed in all black. I think that many emo people would be jealous of me. There was nothing I could do with my hair. Translucent and unwilling to fix into anything nice, I pulled it back and sprayed it down with hairspray. The Persian leaped from the chair he was sitting in, startled as I burst out of the bathroom. Seizing up my instrument case I waved to him and opened the door, running out.

"Later, Daroga! Stay here!" I said over my shoulder.

I really hoped that the trumpet girl was already ready and in the bus. As I raced down the stairs, clarinet case in hand, I looked for Erik helplessly. He was no where to be found. Tuxedoed and black gowned or pants-ed Band kids were also making their way down, but not as frantically as I was. They were used to me being late, though.

They probably assumed that I was thinking I was late. When I'm late, I run. And that's what I was doing. Indeed I passed a few saxophones, one of which called after me "It's not a race!" before I turned the corner. But it was a race. A race against the clock to find Erik, and get him somewhere before we had to leave. For the second time that day, I wished that we had stayed back in_ his_ time.

I cursed him under my breath and nearly ran into two people while I ran down the hall. I spouted apologies quickly and was about to duck beneath them when I realized who they were. I gulped and balked all at the same time. Side by side were none other than Mr. Party…and Erik. They both looked down at me with little surprise and Erik smirked at me.

"I'm glad to see you take your job seriously," Mr. Party said dryly, "But you won't be late, I promise."

I could only blush and nod, staring boggle eyed at Erik, not believing he had immediately gotten a hold of Mr. Party. My instructor turned to Erik with a quick motion.

"Your niece is quite an eager member, Mr. Specter." He said, "You must be quite proud to have her here."

He then turned to me.

"You never said your uncle was in Paris," he scolded gently with a smirk of his own, "I'm surprised at you."

What I was surprised at what that he wasn't freaked out by this corpse man that I pretended to call my uncle. Of course he had the nose on (not taking it off since we left the Opera House) but still he was pretty intimidating if not unpleasant to look at for very long. Later I realized it was only the zeal for music that brought these two men into conversation. My teacher seemed very comfortable with Erik. I shook my head, clearing it then apologizing to my instructor.

"It was kind of a surprise," I said lamely after a moment's thought. "I…He didn't tell me he was going to visit me."

Erik was enjoying this and he elaborately lectured me on the importance of visiting family members. Especially, he said with a glimmer in those dark eyes, when it came to performances of this honor. I forced a grin and Mr. Party shooed me away to the bus, taking up conversation with my notorious uncle once more.

The buses that were to take us to the concert were waiting outside and I quickly found mine, bus two, and got inside. It was noisy and crowded as ever, with cases taking up more space than the students. I pushed my way past them and fellow Band people until I reached the seats where Max and I sat. She was there, and by the look on her face, she knew what Erik was doing. And she didn't like it.

I sat down heavily and ducked to avoid a wheeling saxophone case above my head before turning to Max.

"I found Erik," I said unnecessarily.

"So did I," Max's clipped answer led me to silence.

There would be no talking to her until much, much later. She was not a happy muffin. If Erik had been a kid, Max would have chewed him out right then and there. I looked over out the window to see him and Mr. Party load into the first bus, which was mostly the adults that came with us. I sat back and settled my case on my lap. It would be interesting to see how the rest of the evening turned out. No doubt Erik would be taken care of and helped by Mr. Party, and Daroga was safely inside our room. I sighed. Now there was nothing to do but go to the concert and do my best.

I could only hope my new uncle would appreciate the music…

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**Okay! Writer's block overcome! Update coming soon! ...Sorry!**


	25. Chapter 24

**Holy moly! Summer! My busiest time of the year...not good for writing. My apologies, readers, I have been gone in the mountains for over two weeks and only just got back. We had no electricity and my laptop is good for nothing without that. SO. That's my excuse for not updating....but no worries! I have one now! **

**DISCLAIMER: Phantom of the Opera is not mine. [/monotone] BUT ONE DAY~!**

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Part Twenty-four:

As the buses rolled out from in front of our hotel, I started to feel anxious. The rule for our band and its bus rides are "bus rides are not fun" but we manage to do the exact opposite. Not that it mattered, we all knew that rule didn't truly apply to us: it just sounded good. It only came into real effect when our bus caught sight of where ever we would be performing. Then, all of a sudden, the bus would fall into complete silence. Very eerie when you're only a freshman and it's your first competition.

So now, being nowhere near our destination, the bus was respectfully noisy and it helped only so much with my already rattled nerves. I felt pretty bad for Daroga being stuck in our room for the whole evening. That and I felt a little embarrassed because all our stuff was lying around the room when I left. Made me really wish that our roommate trumpet girl didn't like Victoria's Secret so much. But that itself wasn't making me anxious.

I felt this way because not only would we be performing in front of a huge audience and judges in Paris, representing both America and Nevada alike and one mess up would ruin us forever in the eyes of Europeans and be all over Youtube in the following day for all to see and ridicule further. And not only because of all that, but also because Erik would be right there in the audience watching and listening with the rest of them. It wasn't everyday that a band could go to Paris and play for the one and only Phantom of the Opera, well known as a genius in music.

I will confess, I was just a little bit worried about that. I would've talked to Max about it, to calm myself down but she was still brooding out the window. I kept forgetting conveniently that Max, once seriously angered, was hard to bounce back to normal. For the whole trip to the concert hall I had only my anxieties for company. And they aren't very good company at all.

It was only when that familiar hush came over the whole bus that I snapped my head up. All eyes were fixed on the concert hall and I found that the little bubble or worry inside me had expanded into a volcano of nerves. I surreptitiously tried to wipe sweaty hands on my concert outfit. The years I had been doing this still did not prepare me for a concert night. I gripped the handle on my clarinet case with one that would only be forcefully released if I died.

The other bus passed, its occupants seemingly equally silent and motionless as we were. In vain I tried to peer inside the darkened windows for a glimpse of Erik. It wasn't the right bus, however. The other one that did hold my slippery phantom was already winding itself into the parking lot behind the building. Other buses that weren't ours were already there, waiting for their turn to enter. There would be local bands here as well as other groups from America.

I felt a lump rise in my throat and I tried thinking about not puking. As our bus turned into the lot, I watched as bus one unloaded its passengers. To my relief and apprehension Max pointed out Erik, taller than anyone else. Mr. Party, who thankfully was next to him, was dwarfed by his tall, ugly companion. Max grumbled under her breath and I tapped the window experimentally, wondering if he could see us but a few shushes and threatening glares from other band members made me quickly stop.

Erik and the rest of the occupants of his bus went inside. Mr. Party did not go with them, but instead boarded our bus, ink stamp and stamper in his hands. We knew the drill. Simultaneously everyone held out the backs of their hands to be stamped as he walked down the aisle. Normally this was only done for marching bands but seeing how intense everything here was, stamping was necessary.

Woodwinds were then instructed to take out our reeds for soaking and the brass to have their mouth pieces on hand. I chewed my own reed meditatively, in serious need of some calming activity. Max squished past me to collect her large case stowed in the back with the rest of the larger instruments. And through all this the bus was still silent, the clacking of woodwind instruments being put together and clanging of brass instruments being taken out the only noises that filled the air.

One by one we carefully filed out of the bus, small chatter erupting only when we were out in the cool, outside air. The rest of the band was already there to meet us up and Mr. Perini guided us rather unsuccessfully into a line, bringing us around the back. We had already been informed of what would happen now.

We had a few groups that still needed to perform before us. We were allowed a small room to practice before someone would fetch us for our own performance. We would then play our three songs, bow as one, and watch everyone else. Inwardly I hoped it would be then we could reunite with Erik.

My stomach twisted with amazing flexibility as we walked along. I was quick to find Max and to reply my thoughts in soft undertone. She also agreed to try to get with Erik after we would perform. She would feel better if we had control over our uncle again. I wondered if my friend even knew we were never in control since the beginning but I cleverly kept this to myself.

Sadly, I don't remember much of the building (we know so little of actual concert places) that I barely recall us even going into the practice room before we tuned and played. I enjoyed our song selections, though and the music momentarily soothed me into a calm stupor, not thinking beyond the next note, the next fermata. All too soon, a stagehand came and fetched us and we rose to our feet, filing out quietly row by row. By now my heart rate was back up and I could barely force a smile back at Max when she waved to me before exiting first with her section.

The back halls were dim and cool, which was good because the stage (like any others) would be lit up and I would be baking in minutes in my black concert attire under those bright lights. Not that it mattered since I was already sweaty with nerves….nothing could help me now. The only good thing about stages were that the light almost always were too bright to see anything.

It mattered little on a French stage. Rickety chairs and stands stood aligned from the last group, far too many then we'd actually use. When we got on, people immediately started rearranging everything to our own comfort. Mr. Party himself helped me set up the front row for our clarinets while I avoided eye contact. I could have rearranged chairs and stands forever instead of actually playing a note. But that wasn't possible.

Now everything was perfect and while I fidgeted on my chair I heard the percussion section setting up behind us. Mr. Perini stood on the podium, looking over his music calmly though a twitch in his eyelid gave away his true feelings. I looked over at my section. Pam, first chair, was fiddling with her own music, making sure the order was correct for the thousandth time. Our only boy, James, second chair, looked like a king on his throne quite at his ease. I was third chair so turned the other way to look at the two others which were girls, juniors.

They, too seemed quite at their leisure but I suspected it was because they didn't play for half our songs with all the rests and just because their parts were so minor. I hated that fact that they didn't do much, but if it kept them from screwing up everything I would be satisfied. The other sections I could hear shifting, tapping feet, and fixing up instruments behind me. The crowd in front was unbearably silent. I hoped I wouldn't sneeze.

A man came up with a microphone and started to introduce us, naming who we were, where we were from, and what we've done to get here. It was all old news and I didn't hear a word of it. I didn't really pay attention at all until Mr. Perini's baton rose. We sat ramrod straight in our seats and placed our instruments to our mouths accordingly. I kept my eyes on the swinging stick in my instructor's hand. And we begun.

Music filled the whole place, getting into everywhere and bouncing back but we were ready for this. With long practices in our gym back at home, echoing of our own sound was nothing to us. No one was fazed in the slightest as we played. I played my best along with my peers, loosing myself in the notes before me. That's the best part about playing something you know by heart, everything is almost automatic and no one can ruin it for you except yourself.

I was amazed at my section's being in tune, I must say. Usually there's just one of us who's always off, and in the worst way. I've seen the baton we now watched carefully being flung violently at offending members who played too sharp or flat. And it's completely reasonable: a single sharp in a row of in tune or flat clarinets ruins the whole sound. A non-music person would ask, what's the big deal? But as Mr. Party says….it's adding a single hot chili pepper to sweet, homemade ice cream. Disgusting.

The first song passed with no incident. It was lovely. Mr. Perini was actually smiling as he traded places with Mr. Party. Once the short man was up in front of us, we smartened up. If anything the band sat up a little straighter as he took the podium, humorously lowering his stand to his proper height. He barely rose his hand to start us, we knew his habits, his motions. Needless for me to tell you, the song he directed was probably our best. People applauded quickly then fell silent as Mr. Perini took the podium again.

"The final piece," the man with the microphone stated, "is entitled…Lauds."

Grins were exchanged behind stands. It was our favorite song. Mr. Perini rose his hands high….and we played. Lauds was what it meant, big, loud, and impressive. Our band, if we wanted to do anything, loved to play loud. And we did but with good tone, fabulous clarity, and a wonderful percussion section. We ruled the stage when we were on it. Off it, we were horrible and noisy and obnoxious but there. There dressed up in the tuxes and dresses, we were professional and we attempted to play so.

We were on the last note, we blasted and then…we stopped. Applause rang out loud and finally I looked away from the lowered baton to turn to the crowds. Flushed and more sweaty than ever, all of us took a bow along with our instructor. It was finally over. I turned as soon as I could to the side, to file out behind my peers as we exited the stage. I stumbled over the stairs but an arm caught me.

"Help me find Erik," Max hissed in my ear.

I nodded weakly, glad just to remove myself from the bright stage. I peered into the crowds, but the rest of the band was shoving from behind. Max and I were shoved along unable to fight against the natural pull to the back of the audience. It wasn't long before we were settled in chairs. Max was still standing, looking around in vain while I sat, quite glad she wasn't making me stand up.

"That was just fine," a soft voice said from the side of me.

I turned slowly and found myself looking at nothing. I blinked and the soft voice laughed quietly, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. A single finger tapped my head and I looked up obedient to the call. There, hovering over me frighteningly was the man we were trying to locate. My eyes widened.

"Erik!" Max exclaimed once she had turned. "There you are! I'm so relieved…"

He looked up at her, away from me but I didn't pull my head back up. How could he be so quiet? And sneaking up behind me again…I didn't appreciate it but I was so drained from the performance that I couldn't be mad. Instead, I was a little bit thrilled.

"We really were fine?" I said, still looking up at him, awed that he would give such a compliment.

Max scowled at me, probably for being so forward but Erik didn't seem to mind. His eyes stood out more in the dark and they flashed with amusement.

"Yes, Emma," he said, unaware of a flash of happiness in me from my name usage, "you did just fine, for a group so young. Not perfect, certainly. But…it was pleasant."

My face broke out into the first real smile I had that whole day and only then did I pull up my head to its normal position. Max thanked him profusely as he stepped over the seat to occupy the one next to me. I was even more thrilled and a bit daunted by this. Even seated, Erik was pretty tall, well a head over mine. He turned his attention back to the stage as the crowds hushed. Max gripped my shoulder and grinned at me, which I mirrored back at her. This was the best day ever, I privately thought. The very, very best.

But that didn't stop what was going to happen later that night.

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**THERE. UPDATED. WHEW!**


	26. Chapter 25

**JE REGRETE! **

**DISCLAIMER:** **Haleybob is not the owner of Phantom. That is Leroux Gaston. **

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Part Twenty Five

Of course, when it comes to concerts and a whole bunch of bands getting together, there will always be one or more that's better than yours. Obviously after our performance there were others, European and American alike, that were of a much higher class than we were. With sneaky glances, I think I could say safely that Erik enjoyed himself. He seemed absorbed in the music, making slight twitches with his hand if there was something wrong but other than that, he was actually serene.

Max I knew was dying to talk to him, to communicate something but she knew better than to talk during performances. Instead she kept looking distractedly at me and Erik, always checking the time on her cell phone she never forgot to bring with her. I got fidgety just sitting next to her.

"Do you want me to tell him something?" I asked her in a whisper while a band from Nice was bowing to thunderous applause.

She shook her head and put a finger to her lips which made me grimace and turn forward again. She continued her paranoid gestures and glances until the very end of the performances, nearly driving me up the wall. Luckily we would not be staying, or getting our results until the following evening where a large ceremony would take place and the losers would be able to cry in their best evening wear in public of French television broadcast. But my band was good, and I wasn't too emotional about these sorts of things so I doubted anything too terrible would happen.

Mostly our concern became about Erik again when we all rose to leave row by row after some fat man thanked all the bands for coming, reminding them what an honor it was to be there and to have us there. I couldn't have heard him clearer, the man had a big voice as well as his stomach but my mind was just not there to understand what he was saying. Like I said, it was all about Erik. Max and I immediately turned to look at him when our row began to rise to leave, but he remained seated and stared back up at us calm as you please.

"Um, we're leaving now," I told him uncertainly, "Aren't you coming?"

I squeezed back into my seat to let other band members not of my band on the other side of Erik squish by, most of them throwing dirty looks at me like it was my fault the ugly man wasn't moving. They didn't bother him, though and instead avoided any eye contact with Erik at all. Probably the better; it would have been awkward to explain to my instructor why my supposed uncle murdered some idiot kid who did something to offend him.

After a particularly large kid actually stepped over the row of chairs in front of him instead of daring to squeeze himself past Erik's bony, long legs he finally answered me.

"No." he said simply.

I gaped at him but he held up a hand to silence any attempt to interrupt him.

"Erik will accompany you to the hotel," he said, "but he will not go on your vehicle. I assume your…teacher? Yes, your teacher will be allowed to accompany me on the vehicle I came here on. Now leave."

Needless to say I had no choice but to follow his orders but Max was wary and it took a bit of tugging to get her moving. Thankfully Erik spoke truth and our teacher did go back to help him. I suppose Mr. Party thought it was polite, and that my uncle was having trouble in this fast-paced, youth ruled world of ours. Truth be told, he wouldn't be far from the real answer.

Back on the bus, it was rowdy and excited. Everyone was discussing the performance, dismissing large triumphs of lesser schools and exclaiming and groaning over a minute mess-up in our own performance. No one was interested in people they sat next to, or a man who looked like someone who was shoved in a blender then pieced together clumsily with stitches. With Max's case stowed back with the others she sat heavily down next to me and took out a tissue to wipe the sweat from her brow.

"Never again…" she muttered as she dabbed herself. "Never, ever again…"

Somehow I knew she was the only one besides myself who wasn't talking about the performance. But Max knew that I knew this so the subject was left untouched and the ride back to the hotel was most relaxing apart from the tension of if Erik was around or indeed even safe. What a silly thing of us to do, worry about Erik's safety when really the problems would only be just arriving that evening and would have nothing to do with Erik at all. More of a connection due to association, if I were to be blunt on the matter: which I am.

Erik's bus was a later one to arrive so Max and I could easily wait for him. My friend, still muttering darkly and throwing anxious glances at the bus's windows, was only calmed when Erik came down the bus steps still chatting quietly with Mr. Party and looking rather smug in his own, ugly way. We were quick to come up and accost them.

"Emma," Mr. Party said to me as we came up, "you have failed once again to tell me that your uncle is a very clever man, I am shocked you never introduced us earlier."

I blushed and must've muttered something that worked for my teacher smiled a rare smile and turned back to Erik and bowed with his hands together as if in prayer—a habit picked up from when he was still learning as a student himself under the strict gaze of a Japanese sensei. My uncle made a short bow without the hands together back and only turned to us when Mr. Party made his way to congratulate the trumpets for hitting some of the higher pitches with startling clarity.

"He is well taught in music," Erik said conversationally, pointing at Mr. Party's back. "Erik was pleased to have someone even a little bit close to his own genius."

How the humble not speaketh of themselves. Max looked livid but she dared not say anything: she would rant to me later that night until my ears would fall off. For now, she turned to smaller detailed matters.

"Erik," she asked worriedly, "Where are you going to stay? Will you just have a room here? Do you need our help?"

He stiffened ever so slightly, as if her worry and concern bothered him like an irksome fly or something less desirable and waved her off with a bony hand.

"Erik will stay here," he said shortly, "since you have ridden him of any other home."

He turned on his heel and headed off for the front desk. Max and I stared after him.

"Well!" I said, aware of the uncomfortable silence that proceeded. "Looks like someone took a little offense to being homeless."

My friend just gave an exasperated sigh and headed inside as well. Left outside, I looked towards the sky and raised my arms.

"Does anyone care what I think?" I asked to no one. "Does anyone care for Emma the clarinetist?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some other tourists give me worried looks before speeding up while they passed me. I scowled and stomped back inside the hotel.

Now as I have mentioned before, each hotel room had three to four people to a room, each with members of their own sex. The boys were even placed on a different floor than the girls to ward off any chance of mischief. What was interesting and both worrying is that both my male instructors had rooms on the girls' floor, for more precaution. If anything I would have had to say the boys were less trustworthy to stay inside their own rooms but no matter. The fact was very basic: any guy found near our rooms when it was lights out or otherwise would be questioned and in the very worst of cases sent home to be suspended from any trips…or even expelled.

Under no circumstances were the guys to be the girls' rooms and vise versa. We were all strictly forbidden and one could get in unimaginable trouble was this rule broken. Even couples in the band dared not tempt the teachers by trying to be together in the rooms. The consequences were much too great, and the reward so little. No one ever would think someone would be so stupid as to try anything that might anger the teachers or tempt that little fickle thing called fate.

Of course, this was all well known student to student and you never really thought about any of that because everyone followed that rule above all others. It wasn't on my mind at all that evening, and would have probably been strange if it had. You see, once we had left our charming hotel room, we had abandoned someone, specifically male, inside. I didn't think of it, Max didn't think of it…but I'm sure as heck that our roommate had it on her mind as her bloodcurdling scream echoed down the hallways.

I don't know where everyone was, but all of a sudden every band member we had stuffed that hallway to the point of bursting, trying to see what had happened and to see who was murdered. It's because it had something to do with my room that I instantly knew what was wrong and I could only stop for a second, breathless and sick. My teacher suddenly appeared at my elbow and before anyone could say anything he was at the room and bodily removing a very alarmed and confused Daroga alongside with one of the tuba players.

Excited yells and faces surrounded me as I fought my way to the front. Daroga! How could I have forgotten him? Our roommate must have gotten back before us. I cursed myself and others as I could not get through.

"Get out of the way- that's my room! Stop!" I demanded angrily, almost to the point of beating back the excitable mound of students and a few instruments that had yet to be put away. A hand grabbed me.

"Emma, _that's Daroga!_" Max was nearly to the point of fainting, her grip on me strong and trembling. "We got to get to him!"

I nodded and finally dropped to my knees, jamming myself between and around black clad legs and shoes. My hair was yanked several times, snagging on a button or an unsuspecting hand. I didn't know where Max was. I didn't know where Erik was. I was focused on Daroga only. I could hear his voice, frantic and angry, above all others as he was nearly dragged away. I sped up, standing and knocking a flute player down where I used to be. Pam seized me around the shoulders, preventing me from going forward; I didn't even notice that I was half strangling myself as I tried forcing my way to Daroga but all to no avail. People kept pressing around me, I wasn't going to reach him, he'd go to jail, and we'd be suspended, expelled…

"THAT'S MY UNCLE!" someone screamed.

Silence. Everyone stopped, even Daroga and my teacher and Freddy the tuba player. I looked around. Max, bright red and her eyes swimming in frustrated tears was at the back, her hair falling out of its sleek bun and her fists clenched to her sides.

"Miss Jammes, would you care to explain?" Mr. Party said softly, his tight grip on Daroga loosening only just.

"He's my uncle," Max repeated, her voice faltering in emotion. "He's…he can't speak any English. He's from…from Brest. Please, I think he just wanted to- to surprise us. Please, sir, he was just- he doesn't know what's happening."

Freddy and Mr. Party released Daroga, and slowly Max came forward. People parted to let her through and all was quiet. We followed her with our eyes as she reached out and took Daroga's hand, quietly talking to him in French. Others that had taken French or knew some words translated for those who were oblivious, though no one spoke louder than a whisper. It all got out as to what was being said, slowly.

Max: "I'm sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen. I wish I knew you had been here."

Daroga: "No one told me anything, I don't understand! Why is everyone so angry? Who is the man who attacked me?"

M: "My teacher, Mr. Party. We're not supposed to have guys or anyone outside the band in our rooms. They must've thought you were going to harm us."

D: "I have thought of doing no such thing. All I was doing was waiting for you to come back. Where were you? You were all gone so long, I thought… but then a girl came in. Poor girl! I must have frightened her badly, she screamed so loud!"

M: "Yes that was our roommate. She didn't know anything about you. I'm so sorry."

D: "Don't apologize, just explain. But later, later. I must have gotten you into grave trouble."

M: "Let me take care of this, dear uncle. I will let people know about you."

D: "Uncl- ah. Yes, please do. And tell them I know nothing of English?"

M: "Of course."

She then turned to Mr. Party and bowed her head, shamefaced.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Party. My uncle didn't know of any rules, he thought I was just rooming with Emma. He just wanted to surprise us."

Let me take this moment to explain how odd the two looked together. First off, there was poor Daroga, looking flustered and harassed with his handsome green eyes revealing his anxiety and his dark, close-cropped hair glistening with sweat. His Persian features marked him as a Middle Easterner, not as odd to find here in Paris in modern times. He was nearly as tall as Erik, which was saying something as Erik (as we all know) is very tall.

Max was fully Caucasian, pale and with long, lighter hair than Daroga's. She had Roman or Greek (I forget which one is which) features and though she's tall, she isn't much compared to Daroga. Mr. Party's sharp eyes took all this in and his voice was quiet and dangerous.

"Miss Jammes, so help me, but if you're lying to me to cover up for this man…"

Max, eyes widening with fear, shook her head fiercely.

"No sir, no!" she said, "He's my uncle, I swear on it. I'm so sorry; he's one of my mother's sister's husbands."

He was silent. I held my breath. Daroga still looked bemused and irritated at the thought of knowing naught of what was going to happen. Finally, slowly, he nodded.

"Alright, then. You both better come with me and explain this to Mr. Beech and Mr. Perini." He said.

He glared at everyone in the hallway.

"Everyone back to there own rooms- not you, Miss Sorrelli, or you, Miss Franklin. This concerns the both of you since it's your room he was in. Come on."

Both I and the trumpet girl froze and sighed, coming towards Mr. Party, Max, and Daroga like one would approach the gallows as the victim. No one said anything and leisurely the students dissipated, the excitement over and done with. The specific four of us followed Mr. Party back down the hallway to the hotel gallery.

The trumpet girl walked with me behind everyone.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry about all this," she whispered to me. "I thought he was a terrorist!"

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

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**Je regrete! Je regrete! I got it updated, you all see?? Oh goodness. No more breaks for this author, I assure you.**

**Loved it? Hated it? Lemme know your thoughts!!**


	27. Chapter 26

**Part Twenty-six:**

It was a relief, for everyone, that our principal was so bird-brained. I once heard it phrased like that in a way that inside his head, there were little birds. These little birds would fly around in his great noggin and at times grab at a thought or idea or something he needed to say, and fly away with it which in turn would leave the man bewildered and at a loss of what to do. But whatever the little birds took away would come back eventually. That is the very reason, perhaps, of why he even was able to keep his job.

When we were all led to Mr. Beech's room, he merely stared at all of us with wide eyed, childlike surprise as we quickly went over what had occurred. His eyes often darted between Daroga and Max, with mere curiosity than actual concern while Mr. Party stood over us like an avenging angel who had been denied of catching a real culprit. Thankfully he didn't prevent us from telling our principal exactly (or at least in our modified "they're family" version) what had happened.

"Do let your uncle I say he's quite pardoned," Mr. Beech said absent-mindly once we had finished explaining. "Yes, and tell him it's quite fine that he stays here, though he should give notice beforehand, but yes, yes. Misunderstanding, of course, just a simple misunderstanding."

Max nodded and turned to Daroga to tell him something of the like. Me and the trumpet girl stood meekly beside our instructor and waited for a finishing blow. Mr. Party looked ready to murder something: he hated surprises and he hated dealing with our bird-brain of a principal. When all was covered what with sorting things out I knew better than to let out a sigh of relief near him at all. With a glare that could stun a stampeding elephant he nearly threw open the door and pointed a finger out to the hallway. Our dismissal was quite clear. We hastened to remove ourselves post haste.

"I am sorry for all this," the trumpet girl apologized for the fifth time.

She looked up at Daroga and smiled sheepishly. The Persian fixed her with a confused stare that would have clearly stated to a normal person he didn't really understand a thing nor did he really care at this point. Apparently the trumpeter was not one of those people.

"I'm sorry for screaming, sir. You should warn people next time!" she said simply, and with that out of the way she scampered off.

Max and I sighed with the relief we had been holding back.

"That was too close," Max said.

"Much!" I agreed, fanning my face unsuccessfully with my hands. "Let's not repeat this scene…I kind of like staying in school, you know?"

Max scowled. "Just be lucky Mr. Beeches doesn't ask for anything other than the basics. If Mr. Party had his way, we'd be on our way home."

I shuddered at the thought and dismissed the whole topic. Now we had to go back to the front desk and get Daroga a room.

"Do you think Erik would be willing to share…?" I ventured.

Max shook her head.

"He won't give up his privacy for anything," she said darkly. "We'll have to check on Daroga often is all."

I wasn't sure if I wanted to be in charge of looking after an old man who had yet to discover how to work the shower. However, with one look at the Persian's tired, haggled face I relented and we somehow got to the front desk. Erik appeared only to give up money for Daroga before slipping away again. We never even learned what room he was in, or even the floor. It made me nervous.

However, even though we both had family in the hotel, the 'lights out' call was still eleven thirty. We made Daroga take the number for our hotel room to call us and vise versa in case he needed something which would probably be often. For the band, the policy was you didn't need to sleep but the parent helpers and the directors had to see us _in_ our rooms before telling us to lock up and never come out, even for ice. Why the ice stress, I never did figure out though there was a rumor involving two flutes and a latex glove but I didn't question further about it.

By the time Miss Elden checked to make sure there were three living female bodies in our room, the trumpet girl was sound asleep and Max was cheerfully beating the daylights out of the extra plushy pillows on her bed. She never liked an extra fluffy pillow. 'Could smother me while I sleep,' she had once said with a straight face.

Physique isn't usually the issue when it comes to nightwear with girls. The ones that are more casual with their appearance wear whatever suits them, tight or revealing or silky or whatever the heck it is girls wear to bed nowadays, sometimes all those things mentioned in one, and those that are more conservative (a kinder way of saying self-conscious) stick with the modest pants or long shorts with a t-shirt or tank top.

Max and I were conservative while our roommate was decidedly not. But even more so were we tonight because of the wary feeling that Daroga or Erik might decide they want to talk to us in person and knock on the door. We had already called the Persian's room. As could be expected, he wasn't pleased with anything but stubbornly refused to ask for help. I think he liked the attention he got from Max as she sat there calmly, patiently listening to why the hair dryer was an evil being he had hid under his bed from his fit of panic when it accidentally turned on; why it was under his bed I never learned why—Max's facial expression was a hinting of the sad fate it met in Daroga's hands.

"Bet you he calls in the middle of the night," Max grumbled to me, sliding back into both her dark mood and the bed we had to share only once the phone had been hung up.

I shrugged, sitting on top the sheets as she snuggled underneath them on her side.

"More than likely," I agreed with her, "'course we have to remember that he hasn't the foggiest of what things are and how things are in a hotel. I could barely figure out the bathrooms myself!"

"You didn't attack the hair dryer, though," my friend mumbled.

I smiled involuntarily. The bill of the dryer (whenever the staff found what happened to it) would only go to Erik. The band wouldn't know the cost and neither would we. It cheered up Max only a little when I told her so.

"We're responsible for them," she said gravely, "and I'm still not sure we can trust Erik. I like him a lot, you know I do, but we can't be too careful. He's a murderer and a thief and a genius. He might decide he doesn't need our help getting along, and we both know he's fine on leaving Daroga alone!"

I nodded, hiding my hurt at the truth of it. It was true, he owed nothing to us. He didn't have to stick with us and he was smart enough to realize it. He was probably smart enough to blend in with today's society and get away with it and live a completely different life!

But as my thoughts wandered to this, they quickly shut them out. I had no will to think about the after effects or the chaos—no matter how small—of removing the Opera Ghost from his domain.

"Just don't think about it too much," I said to her and myself, "We'll just take this one day at a time. No fear!"

Max looked unconvinced but a yawn convinced her that she was tired.

"I suppose…" she allowed.

She then snapped off the light and turned away from me. I pulled up the covers and got into bed, making sure I was on the very edge. The trumpet girl snored peacefully, and pretty soon Max's quiet breathing started and I was the only one awake. I stared off into the darkness, listening to my roommates and the cars outside and the occasional door closing and opening in the halls. I wondered if one of them was Erik, but the second after I disagreed. Erik would make sure his door wouldn't make a sound if he ever moved about. I hoped he was happy. I was happy. Tired and completely exhausted and strained but I was happy nonetheless that he was here with us.

"And Daroga, too, I guess," I whispered.

He wasn't so bad. They both weren't that bad. I wondered how we would go home with them, how they would take leaving Paris…

I fell asleep while thinking and I dreamed of sugar plums dancing in the Opera with masks on.

o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the end, Daroga called us three times during the night. When morning came we were already awake and nearly everyone in a foul mood.

"I'm going to kill him," Max announced while our roommate was in the shower. "I'm going to be the one who gets to, just to see how it is!"

"Go for it," I told her, peeling back the curtains on our window and flinching as the harsh light of a cloudy morning came in. "But I think the last time he called he was really spooked. The man has delicate nerves."

Max, who was pulling on her shirt and jeans at the moment, shot a dirty look at me.

"He was asking what the blinking light that came from the fire alarm was!" she said, "So, of course, I had to tell him what a fire alarm was doing on the ceiling and why it was blinking and why that light had to be red! I only know so much French!"

Viciously she brushed her hair up into a ponytail, muttering to herself. I pulled my nose thoughtfully. My friend was good at explaining things, but she only had so much patience with people, no matter how much they need the help.

"Well, we have another free time before tonight's ceremony at least," I told her, checking the schedule that was on the side table. "We can have a spin around the Opera again, see if we're overlooking anything."

"No, we got the book but we can't work it," Max said flatly. "We can't do anything unless we know how to work the book."

She observed her reflection in the mirror closely before undoing her hair halfway. I nibbled my thumbnail and continued to watch her.

"Shower's free!" the trumpet girl announced, the door opening with a bang.

I saw Max wince at the sound as I gathered up my bathroom necessities. The hot water felt good and relaxing once I was in there. It was true, there would be nothing we could do to figure out the book. Erik was smart but I doubted heavily that he knew magic. Or space and time travel, for that matter.

Max and the trumpet girl were both gone when I got out of the bathroom. I toweled my white hair absentmindedly, not really thinking of anything or anyone. Therefore one can imagine how my heart banged its head trying to jump up out of my throat when there was a light knocking on my door.

"H-hang on!" I said, tripping over a pile of clothes as I hastily threw the towel from me. In general, I dress before coming out of the bathroom. I never like anyone seeing my whiteness anymore than they needed to so coming out with only a towel around me is out of the question. My hair was in question, however as it stood every which way in white, wet strands as I yanked open the door.

"Good morning, mademoiselle," a deep, amused voice greeted me.

I stared for a moment then shook my head. I knew that voice.

"…Um… Erik?" I asked in a small voice.

"_Oui."_

The man outside my door bowed slightly. I didn't recognize him whatsoever. Dear reader, this was not Erik outside my door! Or at least, he didn't look the same. He didn't look the same at all, except for the eyes. You couldn't see the eyes still. No, I didn't recognize the man outside my door because he did not look like the Erik I knew.

For one thing, his mask was gone, but also the false nose. But the gaping hole that should've been there with the nose was also gone and instead there was only…a real nose.

It was a plain face, with a normal nose and plain brown hair. The face was completely characterless. It was one you would pass without another thought and would forget in an instant. The eyes are hard to describe, but you knew they were there but you didn't see them that much. In a way, his face was like a plain mask with dark eyeholes. A mask…

"What happened?" I demanded once I got my voice back. "Why are you all different? What is it? Is that a mask?"

"Should Erik not keep it?" Erik's voice spoke again, but it was not Erik's mouth that formed the words. It was very eerie to see and a chill ran up my spine to see a stranger talk to me so familiarly.

"I-I don't know, you could, but…but…" I was loosing my train of thought. "I mean, it looks normal but-…"

"No one would recognize me," Erik finished. The plain face sort of drooped, looking disappointed. I was about ready to hack at my eyes: this wasn't him.

"Right, right," I said, "Sorry, but my professor wouldn't be able to understand why you look so different, and how. You'll have to…to look like you did yesterday. It'd cause too much attention, believe it or not. I'm sorry."

His invisible eyes seemed to study me.

"It also seems to cause you discomfort," he said. "Surprising, seeing as I may pass as ordinary with this according to anyone I saw this morning."

Without an invitation he came into my room, casually shutting the door behind him. I gulped. Mr. Party would slit my throat for letting him in, even if he_ was_ my uncle. Without going to the mirror, he began to peel away from around his neck. I looked away, vaguely disgusted. I never liked horror movies or anything creepy where people tore away their own face. It was that human looking.

"It was only a thought," he told me in a way of explanation, "and a test."

"Ah." I said, and turned back, peeking through my hands that I had hid my face in.

He had his back to me and seemed to be fiddling with his face. The other face—the stranger's face—was lying on my bed, including the hair which I could now see was a wig.

"Ugh," I said, weakly turning on suddenly shaking knees. "Ugh. I'm not sleeping there again…ever."

"My apologies," he said, now facing me and with his normal false nose back on.

He scooped up the fake face and tucked it in his jacket pocket. It was only this movement that made me notice he was wearing his new clothes today, and the cuts we selected hid his generally evident skinniness well.

"You look good," I said, somewhat surprised.

He scowled at me. It didn't make him look better at all. It must've offended him so much that he said nothing to me afterwards and only curtly nodded when I suggested we find Max and Daroga. We left the room in total silence, after I had looked carefully for anyone watching.

Of course, he left me once we got to the breakfast hall. I don't think he would've done so if Daroga hadn't been there, with the most pitiful look on his olive-skinned face. It was apparent that he probably didn't sleep all last night. It didn't look like he had tried to look any nicer than the rumpled state he was in.

"Erik…!" Daroga started, his green eyes ringed with the bags of tiredness.

He then lapsed into a heavy rant in both French and whatever native language he spoke, shaking a fist at his tall companion who watched him cool as you please.

"I'll leave you two be," I said uncomfortably, scooting my way towards the hall. "Meet us here after breakfast…uh, ten anyways."

"That is fine," Erik said and continued to listen to his ranting companion, his arms crossed defiantly across his chest.

I felt an urge to cross myself even though I wasn't Catholic. Sometimes I feared for the Persian's life when he started to get on Erik's case like that; Erik only had so much patience.

Mr. Party announced the schedule and how much free time we were allowed until we had to return to the hotel during breakfast where we dined on corn flakes, bacon, and eggs with toast in the eating hall permitted to us. Dutifully I remembered the time we had to be back as Max, who was stirring her bowl of corn flakes absentmindedly, didn't look like she was attending to what our instructor told us.

"Go and stay out of trouble," our instructor told us. "Don't do anything that I would want to seriously consider committing a felony against you for."

He smiled his vampire smile and sat back down to resume the conversation with Mr. Perini. I and several others shuddered to ourselves. There was something about that man that scared us out of our wits without any of us knowing quite the reason why.

"We have to tell Mr. Perini and Mr. Party about taking Erik and Daroga with us home," Max said suddenly, pushing away her corn flakes.

I choked on my toast and had to take a few swallows of milk and some pounding on my chest before I was able to speak.

"W-why?" I demanded shakily. "They don't need to know! Erik and Daroga are perfectly able to get tickets without telling them."

I poked my fork at her.

"And what makes you agree to that so suddenly? I thought you'd want to keep them here, where they belong!"

My friend took my fork and used it to stab my remaining egg, chewing it thoroughly before replying. She wasn't a big fusser on the spreading of germs, you see.

"I don't want to take them home," she said irritably. "But what choice do we have? We won't get any farther with them staying here at sending them back than we would with them in the US. I think it's better we keep them with us, to keep an eye on them. Erik's tricky and I know for certain he'd love to get out and live here in the future if we give him the slightest chance. Daroga needs us to get them home. They can't be allowed loose in Paris."

I held in another shudder. To think of the things Erik could do, what he could accomplish in a time that was probably very well matched for him was frightening. We ate the rest of our breakfast in silence, both brooding on dark thoughts and of airplane service lines. When we finally got around to mentioning to Erik that he would accompany us to our own country shortly, he took it with little surprise.

"Naturally," he said. And that was it.

"That's it?" I said, shocked. "But Erik! You'll have to leave your city and go to an entirely new one! And we have to get you a passport! And probably a whole new identity! And there's security and the long plane flight…do you even know about planes?"

As I was still talking and Max was currently burying her face in her hands while Daroga looked on in a sort of glazed look that he started taking up when we started talking and no one was translating Erik smoothly took out a set of papers and calmly handed them to me while I was ending my last inquiry.

"What is this-?"

I started looking through them, then started to get a cold feeling in my stomach and hands. They were legal (or at least legal looking) papers of Erik Specter with his citizenship card, his banking account numbers, a birth certificate—December 3rd—and _a social security card._ There were others as well but I didn't get to look long at them as my friend snatched them from my hands to look at each one carefully; her eyes got wider and wider with every paper.

"Erik…" we both said in unison, staring up at the dark spire of a man. "How in the world did you get these?"

He smirked, twisting that awfully disfigured face to a look of a smug demon, his gold eyes sparking.

"How is it you say, 'ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies'?" he said lightly.

Without a word or apparent motion, he started off and Daroga quickly followed, leaving Max and I standing in the doorway of the hotel.

"We. Cannot. Leave. Him. Alone." Max said in a sick sounding voice.

"Ever." I agreed.

Erik was a frightening, awe-inspiring creature. I feared the moment he decided he no longer needed us to get by.


	28. Chapter 27

**Oh look! I'm alive! And here's an update! Happy Easter, all. Sorry for the....delay? **

**DISCLAIMER: ****Phantom of the Opera belongs to Monsieur Leroux and is in no other way mine--but orginal characters and story is! HA.**

* * *

Part Twenty-seven:

I won't bother going over the night's ceremony, because we didn't win. We did take fourth, though, and our instructors were content, with Mr. Perini almost to the point of tears. We got a nice little plaque with some important sounding French title and a lovely check for the band. Erik wasn't there but Daroga we took this time. He found peace in a French couple who talked to him throughout the ceremony, probably thinking he was some invalid or hermit just emerged from some foreign part of the country. I didn't think I would've gone against that thought myself to be frank. In the later course of the evening, when he was told of Erik's secretive ways of getting the right papers to actually live in this time and get away with it that afternoon, he never recovered the healthy glow from his olive-skinned face as he had went deathly white.

Now, still pale and a little shaky, he took to saying little and muttering to himself behind our band as we bore away our prizes triumphantly back to the buses. I realized that at that point, it didn't matter that we had another adult in Daroga that actually knew the whole truth. Erik, somehow, ruled over all of us with an iron fist, slowly taking control. I think Max knew this, for instead of being happy like she would have been for our winnings, her brows were pulled together in deep thought and her eyes were narrowed as if ready to find something to pinpoint why things were happening the way they were.

"We leave tomorrow," I said sadly as we rode back to the hotel, watching the lights of Paris flash past my window. "I can't believe we've been here for only a week."

"Erik's planning something," Max said, oblivious to anything I said. "I can tell, but I can't tell what!"

I settled back in my seat, turning my back on the merrily lighted streets and monuments in order to give my friend my full attention. With the greatness of our success and the natural tendency to talk loudly from the band, we had nothing to fear about being overheard.

"Don't worry about him," I said, patting her shoulder comfortingly. "He's just…preparing what we couldn't do ourselves."  
"But how is he doing it?" Max demanded. "No one could come up with a social security card with _his name_ on it without doing something illegal! It's wrong!"

'Whatever gets him to the US with us safely' I found myself thinking, but I knew better than to say so out loud. Instead I gave my most incredulous look and agreeing nod.

"But what can we do?" I asked her, more to get her off her brooding than to really answer the question, "He won't let us follow him. We can't follow him!"

"That and our deaths are always close into becoming reality," she said darkly.

I gasped and looked around to make sure, although it was near impossible, that no one overheard her.

"Max," I said in a hushed voice, "You don't really think he'd kill us?"

Max's gaze was steel.

"He did try very hard under the lake," she reminded me.

Somehow that seemed like so long ago, like another time in another life. Erik wasn't going to kill us; not in my mind. He was sneaky and insidiously clever, but it never struck me that he would actually kill us willingly. Not after all we had done for him. I shook my head while my friend sighed.

"We'll need his passport," she said broodingly. "I hope he knows how to get that!"

"Agreed," I said nervously.

And we didn't talk about it for the rest of the evening.

The evening was not filled with sleep like it ought to have had for a group leaving the very next morning on a over sixteen hour flight back home, but with mini parties contained within the hotel rooms. The adults and our directors attempted to control them but they had little success and decided that if we became tired and disoriented, there wouldn't be much of a difference tomorrow. However, not everyone was partying and our roommate safely off in another room, Max and Erik and I safely made it to Daroga's room where we would talk. Or so Max wanted.

I soon became aware, when I stepped over the threshold, of just how freaked the poor Persian had been the night before. Nearly everything electrical was either smashed or hidden. A phone cord was gruesomely seen halfway from under the second single bed and the other that he must've been sleeping in was torn askew. Erik took to the only remaining armchair and viewed the room skeptically while Daroga stood in stony silence. I sat on the second bed. Erik had abandoned his false nose for his mask since he was in our presence only.

"Erik," Max addressed him; respectfully I noted, "I know you've got your ID and the like, but what about Daroga? I have to take you both with me tomorrow."

Silently he took out more documents and passed them over to Daroga, who looked at them with a little bit more than a horrified stare.

"All he needs is to sign them," the French man said with a smug voice.

"You're amazing, Erik," I said, staring at the papers. "I would absolutely ask how you did it without being caught if you didn't forbid me."

"Wise child," he replied.

Max made a frustrated gesture while I coaxed the papers out of Erik's hand.

"I hope you won't get caught," she told him almost sharply, but still there was that wary respect, "We can't help you if ours or your government realizes you never existed in our time."

He gazed at her calmly, with a leg crossed over a bony knee and hands folded in his lap. The picture of complete confidence.

"I am aware," he said coolly. "You have nothing to fear. Erik does not make any mistakes."

A tingle went up my spine at that but I tried to ignore it. Instead I shuffled the papers in my hands nosily.

"Who's fearing?" I asked to no one as I handed Daroga a pen from his side table drawer. He pushed the papers and pen back at me, looking angry and frightened. Erik noticed and spoke sharply to him, in what we assumed was Daroga's native tongue for Max had a queer look on her face that told me she didn't know what he was saying, either. Daroga snapped back for an instant then, very hesitantly, took the papers from me as if they were live vipers instead of wood cut into sheets of paper. He snatched the pen out of my hand as well.

"Alright, we're set then?" I said with a nervous smile.

Everyone just glared. Tough crowd.

In the end, everything seemed to be settled. Somehow papers were produced for Erik and Daroga by the skeleton himself, and they would have seats on the plane with one of us tomorrow morning. Max and I left the room while Erik would stay with Daroga only a bit longer to settle him down—no doubt he was worried about the bill he would be receiving for the price of all the smashed electronics Daroga got his hands on. It would be a long journey home, but our adventures weren't over just yet.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The next morning would have been difficult had it been only our band getting ready to leave, but Max and my plates were even fuller with Erik and Daroga to worry about.

Although they had seemingly come with nothing besides what we had bought them, Erik managed to appear with two small suitcases that didn't make any sense to have for only a few of his new suits. I knew better than to question it however. I had my own things to remember packing up my stuff. Somehow I seemed to have lost everything I owned in our one small bedroom so I had quite an adventure finding it all.

"Here's your watch," Max called to me from the bathroom.

I paused in stuffing a shoe into a side pocket of my suitcase to collect it.

"Thank you," I said with genuine relief. The watch had been my grandmother's. It was very old, very large, but very cool nonetheless. I slipped it on my wrist for safekeeping before doing one last search of the room.

"Ready?" Max said impatiently, standing by the doorway with her own suitcase in hand—our roommate had already cleared out, even though I knew she had left several hair bands and a couple bottles of empty lotion under her bed. I nodded and followed Max out and down to the stairs. The elevators would be packed with lazier band kids or just a few of the ones who brought several large bags with them.

Erik and Daroga were waiting for us. Somehow Erik had bullied a kid into taking his own luggage out to the buses for him and stood there empty-handed, nose in place as well with a wary stare at those few people around him scrambling to get their own suitcases out. Daroga, still looking pale and tired, had no luggage to speak of. Unless the kid who took Erik's also took his, too.

As we came up to them I smiled cheerily.

"Good morning!" I said.

"It is indeed," Erik said, looking at a pocket watch he kept in his suit. "When do we leave on your airplane?"

They followed us as we dragged our own stuff out into the cloudy daylight in front of the hotel. Max was able to pull out an itinerary and her suitcase at the same time and managed to place the suitcase in the lower compartments of the bus while simultaneously handing Erik the sheet.

"We leave around one," she said, "But we're going to switch planes in D.C.—our capital, so we can get another to go back home."

Erik nodded slowly and kindly handed the sheet to Daroga, who was peering over his bony shoulder to get a glimpse.

"Where do we board?" Erik asked.

"As soon as the plane is ready, whenever that would be," said a voice from behind us. "Mr. Specter, have you been out of France before?"

We all turned to see Mr. Party loading in his stuff and looking rather worse for wear. His hair had obviously not been combed and he had that look of a teacher trying to load in a hundred kids or so into buses but having no luck. He still smiled and addressed Erik politely. I think it made Erik happy. Musicians are a lonely bunch, but no one said they didn't like talking to another who understood them.

"I have," Erik said as Max started to poke me towards our own bus. "Much of Europe and Russia. But I have not been on a plane before."

We were too far away to hear Mr. Party's response.

"They'll be okay until we get to the airport," Max told me as we found our seats in the bus. Only half of our bus was full, but we still managed to sound like it was filled to the brim.

"I don't think I can handle this kind of stress," I said, holding a hand to my head. "What's going to happen? No wait. Don't answer that, I don't want to know."

Max let out a chuckle and pulled out her book.

"Let's pull a leaf out of your book and not think about it until we come to it," she said.

I couldn't agree more heartily.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

Erik never liked being in public. In fact, I knew he hated it with an unending passion. He seemed fine in darker places or even with our teacher, Mr. Party, but when he had to go out where there were more people and light he became more tense and snappish. Like a hungry tiger exposed to no food but its own captor. Dangerous. Upon the time of leaving Paris and entering the actual airport, he was nearly intolerable.

Everything was an insult to him, he replies were sharp and hateful, and he fidgeted in the most worrisome way—his hand itching for either its lasso or someone else's neck I couldn't quite tell. I explained to many around us that the prospect of flying for the first time made him nervous (it could be true) and so it would be best to not disturb him until later on. Many complied after seeing Erik's angry and ugly face glaring at the world and the people who were unfortunate enough to bump up against him. In a sacrificial air, Max and I stationed ourselves on either side of him to take the bumps and the glares.

After check in with the luggage, our group was told to load up our stuff onto carrier carts that would take them to the plane directly. This Max had to explain to both Erik and Daroga who both started as their things were taken from them. Thankfully Daroga looked too weary to care and sadly complied with the custom, but it took all our consolations and explaining to veer Erik away from his own two bags. Again, it made me wonder dreadfully what was in them even though we had told him the security had ways of finding things that we couldn't—especially metal, bombs, and drugs.

Security was next, and it made us undoubtedly nervous. Of course we couldn't stick next to them the entire time, and to our horror, we were separated due to the large outbreak in tourists and French scrambling to get through first. I was even separated from Max and spent an awkward moment being felt down by a large, Asian security woman when my belt caused the metal detector to ring four times before I was released on the other side. To my amazement, Erik came out behind me, looking disgruntled but not in handcuffs and being led away by angry police.

He glared at me as if to silently imply the security check was completely my fault.

"They made me take off my shoes," he said in outrage. "And put them through a strange mechanism!"

I shrugged unhelpfully, at a loss of what to tell him. He seemed about ready to strangle me before Max appeared at our side, looking sick with worry. Daroga had fainted and the medics needed Erik as the adult to identify him and take him away safely.

"I hate your airports," Erik spat, following Max, clearing a large pathway in the crowds. Being on the receiving end of Erik's furious looks was probably the last thing you'd be able to do.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

As our plane was not to take off for another half hour, I took the break as a chance to flee to the nearest bookshop, and purchased a large French volume about modern electronics in hopes to distract him. Already, genius though he was, the strain of being surrounded by modernized things like an airport nearly overwhelmed him. Standing beside him I could almost hear his brain churning in efforts to keep up with the life around us. A sickly sort of flush came into his sunken cheeks as I offered him the book and he took it with the relief of having something that could explain the new world he was in and in a way that didn't involve poor high school student girls who barely understood how a mechanical pencil worked.

The book came in handy immediately. Whenever Erik spotted something that bothered him (like the automatic ticket counters and the insurance computer monitors) he would snap open the book and bury his false nose in the pages and say nothing, allowing himself to be guided gingerly around by the careful touch of Max or myself. And that was just Erik.

Now picture Erik—whose genius allowed him to understand much beforehand but already failed him in the modern day airport….and then compare him to the poor Persian, who knew nothing and never wanted to—who's sole belief was that McDonald's ketchup packets were pure evil in the form of plastic. In a sincere "fight or flight" moment, he was slicked with sweat and his breathing was heavy like he had run a marathon. After his experience with the security center, one could observe that his eyes were dilated wider then ever before, despite the bright flashing lights around him. In short, he was terrified out of his mind.

If it wasn't for Max hanging onto his arm and whispering kind words and assurances to him, I would not have been the first to bet he was close to having a full on cardiac arrest. In a subtle way I suggested we fetch him some Nyquil or another drug to make him tired so he'd be easier to handle. Needless to say I received a rounding smack on the head for it. Max didn't like the thought of drugging him in any way—Darius would kill us, if he ever knew.

"Be ready to board!" barked Mr. Perini as we gathered once again in front of the gate. "Everyone have their tickets? Good!"

Mr. Party moved around the students and helper parents, checking the tickets before we would actually have them officially ripped up.

I nearly chocked. Tickets! Where were our tickets…? I started to pat myself down frantically.

"Here, dummy," Max said, waving them in my face before tucking mine securely in my back pocket.

"Thanks," I said sighing.

It was good to know that one of us wasn't loosing our head in the group.

Everyone was gossiping and chattering excitedly, pointing as the tunnel connecting to the plane started to move out from the building. Friends nudged each other knowingly and parents checked their watches, already irritable. Daroga shuddered beside me and I heard a page being turned savagely as well. The time was near at hand to leave. And we were taking two storybook characters right out of their natural habitat. I doubted that there was any license for that…or if Leroux would mind that we were taking his creations far out of their normal scope.

"I'll be sad to leave here," I told my own friend wistfully.

She bit her lower lip and nodded, keeping an eye on Daroga.

"Boarding, Gate H." A cool female voice said over the intercom. Daroga jumped so badly he stepped on my foot and Erik jerked his head up from his book. "Boarding, Gate H. Please have your tickets ready."

"Time to go," I said to them as cheerfully as I could manage.

They stared at me while Max allowed them to hold their own tickets, saying what they had to do with them.

"Let's move out!" Mr. Perini bellowed over the still repeating voice of the intercom and the sudden outburst of loud clamor of the peanut gallery.

As we muddled into one of or least best line formations Max drew alongside me.

"I gave my original ticket to Erik so he'll be with you," she said quietly, "I would have given you Daroga, except…"

"He doesn't know what I'm saying and I can't speak French," I finished, blushing slightly. "I understand. No problem! And good luck yourself."

She groaned.

"I might switch with you in a few hours if Daroga keeps acting like he is," she said, casting a weary eye on the twitchy man.

I nodded sympathetically and dutifully hooked myself up with my fake uncle, whose nose was so buried in his book all I could see was his discolored forehead. I knew better than to interrupt him and managed to slide his ticket out of his hand so I could hand it to the ticket man, who gave Erik a startled look before letting us pass.

"We're in row 25," I told him when we stepped into the plane, craning my neck to look at the numbers printed above my head on the luggage holders. "And...in B and C. Hey, that's awesome! Want the window seat, Erik?"

He ignored me.

We squeezed ourselves past people, their legs, their bags, and once a blind woman's dog before reaching our spot. Without any help, Erik slid in to the window while still hiding behind his book. I lowered myself down in my own place once he made himself comfortable and stowed my handbag underneath my seat before leaning back to lock my seatbelt. Of course my uncle didn't put his on and it lay morosely by his side. I was shocked to see that if he scooted over in his seat, he would hardly take half of the space.

"You...might want to put that on?" I said squeakily, not sure if he was still in his frightening mood or not.

Finally the book came down and I saw that his face had deeper shadows on it–he was exhausted. I pointed out his seatbelt buckle mutely, trying not to seem imperious or scolding. He took up the two bits and looked at them a long time. So long, that I had the sudden thought that I might have to do so for him. It made me blush to think of ever wrapping his belt around his tiny waist, of being that uncomfortably close to him and I hesitated. Thankfully, thankfully he clicked the two pieces together smartly and picked up his book only to carefully set it next to him in his seat. He turned to me slowly.

"How does the plane fly with so much weight in it?" he asked me then, producing his mask from his suit. "I can fathom a smaller craft, but this seems mostly produced of heavy sheet metal..."

I managed a small smile as he talked. Even exhausted, his brain still worked hard to understand and ask questions. I felt at ease with him at once. I felt that Max couldn't possibly be right about Erik killing us. I just don't think he was that type of man.


	29. Chapter 28

I'm BACK. WHEW. Okay, seriously, I have to beg forgiveness of all. I have discovered how to read my reviews (I just found my stories without logging in) and your kind words and encouragements thrilled and inspired me to take up my pen (laptop technically) and write up the chapters I've been working on and off on paper. SO. HERE IT IS.

**DISCLAIMER: ****I do not own Phantom, I do not own Erik, I don't even own this website... **

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Part Twenty-eight:

The plane wasn't the least less noisy than our previous flight, and this time I not only feared for the lives of our band by death from our instructors but from a far more deadlier man: Erik. Despite his curiosity in the plane's workings he grew more and more into a sour mood and started to express it in a terrifying way. Although his generally polite manners had thankfully reappeared, his intense dislike at people showed at its near peak whenever an unsuspecting passenger would either stare at him or pass our seats in the aisle. I noticed, more than his hateful stare, that whoever was at fault immediately hurried away as fast as they could and didn't dawdle or stare longer until they were safely back in their seat.

To know I was sitting next to him and responsible for him and any murder he might choose to commit made me shrink farther in my seat and wish the plane ride wasn't as long as it was. Only the stewards and stewardesses passed through without problem, for with their practiced smiles and free drinks on hand they made it past Erik without a single quarrel. I also believe it was also the fact that Erik realized that it was merely their job and they and he had no choice in the matter.

About three hours of silence and furious book reading, Erik put his down and to my dismay started looking about him once more with an edgy look; now he was completely open and vulnerable to the world around him and with little to no more distractions to relax his brain with. With best intentions and my hand secretly to the level of my eyes, I tried to claim his attention in the most friendly, innocent way I could put forward.

"You'll like America," I told him assuringly, "It's way better than it would've been in your time."

He slowly turned his head towards me, his false nose glimmering in the lights as he fixed me with a rather condescending gaze. I swallowed convulsively and attempted to continue.

"We're really on top of things, now. Mass production, fast food joints everywhere, and everyone's got a house and car and stuff. Sort of. Pensions for old people…"

He listened as I jabbered on for about five minutes, but stopped me halfway through my pitiful explanation of social security.

"I shall determine the ways of your country myself," he said moodily, "Do not put your own opinionated ideas into Erik's head. He will form his own opinion—negative or light."

I gulped and nodded, instantly silenced. Luckily, Max decided to swing by and she gave a kind look to Erik but scowled at in my direction as she motioned me to her. I got up, thanked my lucky stars that I didn't have to climb over Erik, and stood next to my friend in the aisle. He watched us with narrowed eyes as Max pulled me towards the bathroom area of the plane.

"Time to switch," Max said. "I can't take Daroga any longer—he's such a child!"

At first I was surprised, but on inspecting her expression I could see that she was honestly disappointed in her seatmate. I held up my hands and grinned weakly.

"I'll take the shift, then. Maybe Daroga will learn to like me more!"

"Or not," she said absently. "How is Erik for you?"

I gratefully told her everything of my terrors of sitting next to the man I had admired so much and how exactly I felt.

"Utterly scares the heck out of me, he's in such a bad mood I'm afraid to even say one thing!" I finished, shamed that I was allowing these things to pass my mouth even though they rang true.

In a involuntary gesture, Max patted my head sympathetically.

"Well at least I'm forewarned." She said. "But you are kind of annoying sometimes. Don't worry about it."

Before she could attempt the journey to my seat, Erik stood up angrily and marched over to us. The few seated passengers already accustomed to him cringed slightly as he passed. Instinctively I darted behind Max, who somehow stood her ground and calmly looked up at the towering skeleton.

"What is it that you two are whisper, whisper, whispering about?" he hissed. "You shall not keep things from me, not one thing! What is it you were talking about without Erik's knowing?"

My knees knocked together as I squeaked out a sort of answer but Max shrugged and merely told him the truth.

"Emma and I are switching seats," she said. "I just didn't want you to know how I feel about sitting next to your companion because I was ashamed."

With the skill of a professional actress Max bent her head in a penitent and humble attitude. Whether her acting skills were so poor that Erik found it amusing enough or that he actually believed her story, he lost the dangerous aura and replaced it with his usual brooding one and asked her what the said feelings towards the Persian man were. She repeated (or rather, reworded carefully) what she said to me. To my astonishment, he took it well. So well that I swore he almost smiled. Which was very chilling to see as smiling did not improve his face whatsoever but made him look rather like a serial killer beaming down upon his victim that he had just decided on how to murder after a long process of sorting.

"That is well," he said, "I will permit this…switch. You are allowed to sit beside Erik."

"Thank you," Max said with sincere relief. "I knew you would understand."

I couldn't help but stare at them both as I followed them back to our seats. Erik sat first and waited until Max seated herself comfortably before allowing me to have a few hints on my new task.

"He will be easy if you pay attention to his long monologues," he said, "They shall make him feel like someone is listening. He is much like you, in that manner. Also tell him, when he asks, that I refuse to sit beside him."

It was easy to resist saluting him in my state of shock at his complete turn-around mood and satisfied him by nodding my understanding of his wise words instead. Deep inside me I was rather hurt by his monologue comment but if he said it, then it was probably true. Perhaps Daroga and I could be very good friends if we could understand one another.

I wasn't deep in those thoughts, however and as I made my way down to Max's vacant seat I felt eyes settle on me. In a plane full of tan vacationers of multiple nationalities, a very stereotypical albino such as myself stood out. I pretended not to notice them as usual but my face still grew hot in embarrassment, especially a few that were not discrete in their gawking stares. I knew what it was like to be different, to be a stranger in a crowd like Erik was and I wondered then if some of the stares we had gotten before weren't just at Erik. I knew people could not help it but they didn't need to stare so…obviously.

I was so bent on avoiding eye contact with anyone that I gave a good yelp when someone clung to my wrist as I passed their seat.

"Hey Emma," hissed a row of flutes.

Now notice that I am not crazy or addressing actual flute instruments. For those not in a band, one has to know that it is not uncommon for band members to address each other only as the instrument instead of the human being type noun. I myself would be called "a clarinet", for instance.

I looked down on their curious faces with a vague frown.

"What is it?" I asked, surprised they would think to ask me anything as I didn't associate with any of the flutes much, other than to tell one of them that their chair was moving my stand in band practice now and then.

"Your uncle," they said in hushed tones, "What's wrong with his…?"

They didn't dare use the word 'face' but unconscious motions and touches to their own spelled it out clearly what exactly they found 'wrong'. Now, on a normal Erik-free day, this wouldn't have bothered me much. A life full of questions always followed my own condition and I was never offended by those who were brave enough to talk to me and remain merely curious and natural in speaking to me. I respected them if they respected me, and I was glad to give an explanation if they truly just had that bland curiosity inside them and not that telltale look on their face that said "you look wrong". And not the wrong that meant 'different', but the 'wrong' that indicated something unnatural and inhuman. That is the defining line I look for in a face.

When the girls mentioned Erik and made movements to their own perfect, unblemished faces I bristled up at once, for I saw that they thought he was the 'wrong' I did not like.

"Nothing's wrong with him!" I snapped, snatching my hand rudely from the girl's gentle grasp.

At once their brows rose, threatening to slide off their foreheads into their hair.

"Wow, sorry, Emma," one sophomore said coolly. "Didn't know you were so touchy."

I tried communicating my anger through my eyes, which I hoped were glowering and scary with their reddish hue. Instead they only exchanged significant glances between each other before a senior sighed once and said:

"It's just a birth defect, right Emma?"

"Sure," I muttered and I quickly moved on my way. I heard them speaking in their low voices again and they giggled. I burned with the knowledge that they would now be gossiping about me. But if it kept their wagging tongues off of Erik…I would be satisfied.

Finally I spotted Daroga. He sat in a middle row by himself, looking up at me with dawning recognition. Still upset at my experience, I threw myself in the seat beside him. From the corner of my eye I viewed him.

"_Salut_." I said grumpily. "_Ca va_?"

His bright green eyes looked worried and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"_Que'est que comment?"_ he asked, ignoring my own conversational questions.

I sucked in a loud breath and let it out as I sunk low in my seat and scrunched up my face.

"If you're asking me how I am or what's wrong or something, it's nothing." I told him sullenly. "Not like I could say I'm mad, 'cause I forgot how to say 'mad' and I don't know how to tell _you_ I don't know why I'm mad because I don't really know why! I just am!"

I said the last bit rather loud and Daroga flinched. Several others also glanced back at me irritably and one old woman in the row across from us gave me a reproving look but said nothing. I fumed silently, feeling stupid.

"And now I don't even know how to apologize _en francais_!" I said in an angry whisper. "Ugh! I hate ordinary people!"

We were both silent for awhile. Little by little I calmed down. When that happened, I started feeling bad about acting so childish when someone needed me. Guiltily I tried smiling at the Persian, in way of apologizing. A stony look and a face that remained un-charmed was my only reward. I finally brought out my secret weapon—utter nonsense.

"_Tu es une banane,"_ I said with a shrug. "_Je suis un poisson!"_

He goggled at me like I was insane.

Maybe I was.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

America! Home of the Free, Land of the Brave. Or something like that… After long hours trapped in a plane with a chaotic switch in D.C., I let out a loud sigh of relief as my country and my state passed beneath my window. In the end, I was back sitting with Erik but I was allowed the window seat. I had distressed Daroga too much with the last seat exchange and Max, with an exasperated look, had reclaimed her shift as his caretaker. Erik ignored me splendidly with his fake nose buried once more in a comforting book.

At the capital we had also gotten him a bag full of other books on whatever he liked or chose, some of which included: Webster's Dictionary, American Government for Dummies, What Happened to America? The Industry Boom, 1920's-Leading to the Depression, French Cuisine: Made Easy!, and Les Miserables by Victor Hugo for light reading. At that time, Erik had another book about modern mechanics and technology, which he read with peculiar noises of contempt or disbelief interjecting each chapter.

Mr. Perini had already stopped by to warn us that once we arrived in Las Vegas, that we were to get down to the baggage claim as fast as possible and wait together until everyone got their things before leaving for the charter buses that would hopefully be there to take us back to our school. My nerves tingled and my foot tapped excitedly on the floor. I was happy and eager to be home. I thought over the souvenirs I had gotten, the sights I had scene, and how glad I would be to hear nothing but American English conversations I could eavesdrop on with ease.

My phone buzzed emphatically in my pocket. With Erik's glance of suspiciousness on me, I opened up the text from Max.

"You might want to call in to your parents to let them know we're landing," it said, "Are you ok getting home?"

I grimaced slightly, cursing my forgetfulness.

"No," I texted back, "Do you think you could give me a ride? M and D are still gone and I don't have my car at the school. ):"

I waited and smiled cheerily at Erik, who set his book down to look over my shoulder at the tiny screen which I innocently hid with my other hand. Her reply came swiftly.

":\ I wish you asked earlier." I could easily hear Max's tone from the monotone letters. "What are you going to do about Daroga and Erik? I thought you'd be able to drive them: why didn't you remember your car?"

Another grimace. That was supposed to be the first plan, but it had turned to asking Max since I had forgotten to drive my car to the school the day before the trip. I didn't think it would have been a big deal before we left, but then I never expected to have supposed fictional characters to hide and protect either.

"Sorry!" I texted back hurriedly. "Maybe you can just leave them at the school and take me home and I'll come get them?"

"What do you mean by saying that?" Erik's voice cut in like a knife, draining me of power.

I slowly creaked my head around to look up at his newly masked face. My voice caught in my throat as he stared me down heartlessly with his glowing eyes. How like a cat's were they, gleaming as they did. Predatory and sharp.

No, I decided, not a cat. A panther.

My phone buzzed between us and I discovered that it wasn't in my hands, but Erik's!

"Hey-!" I protested but he had already opened it gingerly, reading what was inside.

"You have very poor grammatical skills," Erik said presently, handing it back to me. "Madmoiselle Max cannot transport us together. I had forgotten you both are so young and are still under your parents' care. Would they be so alarmed as to find you with guests? It is understandable that we shall drop the relation hoax with them."

"Very alarmed," I said nervously, thinking of my own. "But mine are gone—they wanted to see Europe while I was here and they won't be back for three weeks at least. I'm in charge of my house for now. But Max's family is all here and they're… not fond of random men talking to their daughter, you know?"

Erik 'hmm'd and sat back in his seat, dwelling on the new information of his hostesses. I quickly texted Max as soon as his attention was diverted.

"Okay," I typed. "New plan. Tell your folks that they're my parents' friends come for a surprise visit and are staying a month. We got to get them back to my house."

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**Working on next chapter as we speak. Hate it? Love it? Lemme know your thoughts, 'cause now I know how to read it!**

**Critics are welcome with open arms and a 24 gun salute!**


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